


A Cadmean Victory

by DarknessEnthroned



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessEnthroned/pseuds/DarknessEnthroned
Summary: My little drabble. Now remastered.
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Harry Potter, Katie Bell/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 55





	1. From the Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> A quick note!
> 
> I chose not to use archive warnings to avoid spoilers, but if you're not 18... well.
> 
> For anyone who's not read the old version, the version of Harry you find here is technically an AU version. Canon Harry's personality is the surface ripples over a deeper pool of character traits a child would be very hard-pressed to avoid acquiring growing up in his circumstances (such as secrecy, brittle trust, introspection, and so on). In other words, my version of Harry acted like canon Harry and buried everything else to conform to the expectations of the magical world he found himself in. And, as anyone not new to this story knows, this isn't a remarkably effective form of self-therapy, so eventually things tend to bubble back up...
> 
> And no, you won't find a single double quotation mark in this version either!
> 
> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD

'Harry.' Hermione’s greeting cut through the silence like one of the special Japanese kitchen knives Uncle Vernon had gifted Aunt Petunia over the summer.

'Hermione.' Harry smiled.

 _She looks just the same._ He recalled his piggish cousin explaining to his lackey, Piers Polkiss, that girls suddenly turned into beautiful women in their teens and his smile stretched a little further. It had sounded rather like Dudley expected it to happen overnight like some odd, human caterpillar. _No doubt his understanding was based off an extremely limited experience of girls and one too many adult magazines._

Hermione’s bushy hair, worried lip, and disproportionate teeth made a beeline for Harry at remarkable speed.

 _Dudley would be baffled, by his logic, she ought to have become a beautiful butterfly by now._ Harry pictured his cousin’s gaping mouth, piggy eyes, and extra chins with a chuckle. _She wouldn’t be Hermione without those little things, just like Ron wouldn’t be himself without his freckles, and Harry wouldn’t be Harry without his glasses._

'How has your summer been? Have you started studying? What are your classes? Have you dropped divination yet?' Hermione’s questions rushed at him at Firebolt speed.

Harry blinked. 'It was okay, actually.' He struggled to remember the other questions, but couldn’t recall picking them out of the sudden barrage of words.

_Perhaps I've spent a little too long in my own company, this summer. Still, it was better than being Aunt Petunia’s garden-slave._

'And your classes? Divination?' Hermione pressed.

Harry took a couple of steps back. 'Runes, arithmancy, and yes, I dropped divination.'

She opened her mouth.

'Trelawny was starting to run out of original predictions for my death.'

_Best to keep my summer of study to myself. I’m not mentally prepared for a Hermione tirade right now._

'Harry! Don’t you know you can't take fourth year runes or arithmancy without knowing the third year course?' Hermione shook her head and gnawed her lip. 'You really should have checked, now you'll have to study to catch up or join the _third years_. You should have studied in the summer.'

'I'm sure I'll find a way,' Harry said.

 _Focus and intent. That’s the way._ He smiled. _It’s a miracle I managed much magic before this summer. I barely had any idea what I was doing._

Hermione gnawed at her lip. 'Well, I can help you a bit. I know all the stuff you’ll need to know and I’m comfortably far enough ahead to spare some time.’ She glanced around. ‘Where are the Weasleys?'

'Attempting to pack, I think.' Harry caught her eye and grinned.

She sighed. 'Ron…'

'Harrikins!' One – seemingly nobody could really tell which – of the twins called down the stairs, then the entire Weasley family was around him, chattering away.

 _Loud._ Harry eyed the elbows and hands brushing against him and hunched himself in. _Is it me, or did they get louder over the summer?_

'Is everyone here?' Mrs Weasley bustled around, pausing before a bleary-eyed, dishevelled Ron. 'Honestly, Ronald.' She straightened his collar and sighed. 'Percy was ready before you and he's not even interested in Quidditch.'

‘Time to go.’ Mr Weasley shuffled out of the huddle and yawned. ‘Don’t want to be late.’

The group surged forward in a whirl of motion and a blur of noise that swirled round Harry until they were seated again.

'Bulgaria will win,' Ron declared as Harry leant in to at least appear to be joining in one of the conversations around. 'Krum’s brilliant.'

'We disagree Ronnikins. Far be it from us to dispute the talent of the mighty Krum–'

'–but our money is on the Irish.'

'Technically, George, our money is on the Irish and Krum,' the other twin, presumably Fred, said.

'Very true, George, very true. Ireland to win, but Krum to catch the snitch.'

_Apparently they're both George today. Do they even consider one of the names as their own, or just use both._

'I still think Bulgaria will win it,' Ron said. 'Krum will get the snitch long before the Irish can score that many points.'

'Stop fighting,' Ginny hissed. 'The teams are coming out.'

_She spoke in front of me._

The Bulgarian cheerleaders strode out onto the field like they’d stepped straight from one of the American high school drama shows Dudley gawped at in his room when he thought his parents weren't watching.

 _Only those cheerleaders don’t move like these ones._ Harry stared down at the parade as they began to dance.. _They don't have silver hair that makes you want to run your hands through it, lips that look soft and sweet as sugar, or eyes as bright as stars._

A hush fell over the crowd. The dance continued into the silence a blurred swirl of silver and pale skin.

Harry leant forward. ‘If I stood up, would they see me?’ he murmured. ‘Would they notice?’

 _But I hate attention._ A little voice piped up in the back of his head. Harry fancied it sounded a little like Ginny.

 _It would be nice for them all to respect you, though._ The voice's second statement sounded smooth, light, and strangely familiar.

‘Tom Riddle...’ Harry leant back from the edge and hunched into his seat.

The cheerleaders dance stilled, the noise of the crowd swelled, and the two sets of players burst into stadium.

The Quidditch World Cup final commenced in a blur of motion. Harry snatched his omnioculars out of his lap. The green and gold blurs turned into a trio of Irish chasers. Harry focused on the distant figure of Krum. The Bulgarian seeker drifted apart everything below, free as any bird, and a smile crept onto Harry’s lips.

Krum swivelled and plummeted out of sight. The crowd roared. Something caught Harry on the cheekbone. His glasses slipped from his nose and the omnioculars sailed into the rows below.

_Where did my glasses go this time? If only I could summon them without getting a silly warning for underage magic._

Harry peered under his chair and caught a glimpse of reflected light from the very back. He stretched an arm under, but the glint of light hovered just beyond his fingertips. He tugged his wand from his pocket and hooked them into reach. A swathe of scratches covered the lenses.

 _Inevitably._ He repaired them with a wordless tap of his finger. _Guess it was a thing I slept on them after all. Even if I had to spend three days figuring out how to use magic without a wand._

Harry slipped his wand into his sleeve and shot a glance at Hermione. Her eyes were fixed on the game, her lips pressed into a thin, white line.

_Good, she didn’t see. If she had, I’d not see her until she figured it out herself._

He tracked her glare to the referee, who'd stopped to dance and flex his muscles in front of the Bulgarian cheerleaders.

 _He's a terrible dancer._ Harry laughed. _He’s going to be very embarrassed when he snaps out of it._

'They're veela,' Hermione whispered. 'I haven't really read about them, but I did come across a reference in a potions books about amortentia.'

He raised an eyebrow. 'Isn't that a love potion, Hermione?'

Hermione turned scarlet and Ginny flushed as red as her hair. 'Harry, be serious,' the bushy-haired witch hissed. 'Veela have the ability to charm most men. They look like very attractive women, but they're not completely human. They’re trying to _cheat_ by charming the referee!'

Harry threw another, longer glance in the direction of the Bulgarian team's cheerleaders. A faint thrill shot through him, but he took a deep breath and forced it down. 'Interesting. I'm still curious why you were reading about amortentia, though?'

Hermione huffed and turned away to speak to Ginny.

He smiled. _For someone who likes to know everything about what I’m up to, she doesn’t like to share half as much._

Harry leant back in his seat again and pictured a small circle of blank ink on a white page until the crowd noise and flashes of motion drifted into the background and his heartbeat slowed.

A massive roar rose from the crowd, shattering his focus. Ron surged to his feet, his elbow missed Harry’s glasses by half an inch. Harry stumbled to his feet.

Viktor Krum hovered over the stadium, his strong jaw and brows set in a determined frown and one hand raised above his head. Harry fancied he could just make out the twitching wings of the snitch within his grasp.

 _He looks quite pissed for someone who just caught the snitch._ Harry glanced at the scoreboard. _Oh, they still lost._

The veela cheerleaders danced on. Ludo Bagman shouted the result over the crowd and their celebrations froze. Feathers sprouted along their arms, their eyes widened and turned dark, lips and chins elongated into curved, sharp beaks.

_Not completely human at all._

'Time to head back to the tent, Arthur,' Mrs Weasley said. Her husband nodded, one eye still on the veela.

Blue flames appeared in the hands of some of the cheerleaders and a heated scuffle broke out between the match officials and the enthralled referee.

They staggered down steep steps that seemed to stretch on far further than Harry recalled walking up. He voiced his thought aloud.

Hermione turned, the glint of knowledge in her eye. 'It's a very clever space manipulation spell. You put your feet on a step and the space is stretched upwards so you actually go up much farther than you think. It's like a tiny magical escalator for each step.'

'Means an awful lot of different sets of steps for different levels though,' Ron groused.

'It's brilliant, Ron.' Hermione's tone sharpened.

 _Lecture time._ Harry concealed a sigh beneath his breath and let a flood of arithmancy and runes wash over him. _Still, some of it makes sense now, so at least my summer study has been useful for something._

Hermione's barrage of information continued until they found themselves back at the Weasleys’ tent.

‘So you do need to breath,’ Harry quipped into the brief silence. ‘I was beginning to wonder.’

Hermione’s lips crooked. ‘This tent is another fascinating use of spacial expansion, Harry. Kind of like what you see in _Doctor Who_.’

‘In what?’ Ron squinted at Hermione and Harry in turn. ‘Is this another weird muggle thing?’

'Look at all this, Harrikins.' The twins waved fistful of gold under Harry's nose as they passed. 'Bagman bet against our prediction, gave us good odds too.'

'It ought to be enough now, Fred,' the twin wearing the jumper emblazoned with the letter G crowed.

'Indeed it should, George.' His twin shovelled handfuls of gold from their pockets into their trunks. 'Best get it out of sight before mum comes and sees we've been gambling, though.'

Harry snorted and moved in the direction of his bed. Fireworks exploded and screeched above the tents as the Irish celebrations.

 _It’s loud again._ Harry slipped past Ron and Hermione’s squabble, then sidestepped Percy's sermon on the shortcomings of the absent Bertha Jorkins and settled down on the cot.

Despite the noise, sleep came to tug at him, drawing him down from scattered thoughts into the dark.

Something shook at his arm and he jolted upright with a cold rush of adrenaline.

'Harry,' Mr Weasley hissed. 'We need to leave now. Get Ron and Hermione and get out of the camp. Stay together.'

He stared at Mr Weasley’s grim face, then nodded and fumbled for his and his wand.

Ron was by the entrance of the tent with Hermione. Their pale faces peered out into the camp a thin slit at the door.

'Come on, Harry,' Hermione whispered, tugging at his arm.

His skin prickled beneath her fingers, and he frowned and pulled his arm away. Screams echoed from close by.

They fled from the tent toward the woods, caught in a tight, torrent of panicked people. Smoke hung over burning tents in the camps' centre. It drifted over them on a strong breeze, thick and sour enough to choke Harry's breath. He ducked down and scuttled through the crowd toward a glimpse of green trees.

Flashes of light threw eerie shadows against the veil of smoke and the dull echo of explosions rang over the roar of the flames.

‘Harry!’ Hermione’s shouts pierced the smog. ‘Where are you?!’

Something hit him hard in the side of the head and everything went dark in a flash of white sparks.

Warmth seeped into his cheek. It turned from warmth to heat, then grew hotter and hotter against his skin. Harry flinched. A sticky something cracked on his face and his glasses slipped down his nose.

Harry hauled himself to his feet. A thick, strong tang of smoke filled his mouth. Flames engulfed the line of tents a few metres from his face. A swirling mass of pitch-black smoke obscured the rest of the camp.

 _I hope Hermione and the Weasleys are ok._ He staggered toward the trees. Thick, soft, warm grey ashes carpeted the ground and swirled out of the sky like snow. _What on earth caused this? A dragon?_ He peered round for movement, but everything was still and grey. _As long as it’s not Voldemort or dementors again. I’d rather it was a dragon than them, dragons are fine so long as you leave their eggs be, and I’m not Hagrid._

Harry strode through an unnatural, soft silence. The ash fell and muffled everything like he’d stuck his fingers in his ears. Hot embers seared his feet through the soles of his shoes and the charred remnants of furniture or worse crunched beneath his heels. The sound seemed loud as thunder claps in the eerie, still silence.

A flash of light blinded him and something hissed over his head.

Harry twisted about and slipped his wand from his sleeve. Two sickly purple spells streaked toward him. He threw himself to one side and rolled in the ash, catching a glimpse of a thin, almost skeletal wizard draped in black robes.

'Lacero,' the robed wizard croaked. Another purple curse flashed at him.

Harry dived behind one of the awful looking mounds of ash and the curse sailed away into the smoke.

'I must remain unseen and behave,' the wizard muttered. His wand snapped up and unleashed another trio of curses.

They tore through Harry's makeshift shield and grazed his left arm.

'Expelliarmus!' Harry's spell ricocheted of a glowing barrier into the ash and sputtered out.

'Stay unseen.' The wizard's tone was detached and distant. His wand hand trembled and he dug the fingers of his free hand into his temples so hard his knuckles turned white and blood trickled down his face. 'No.' The skeletal wizard's voice shifted hoarse and cruel. 'The Dark Lord will reward me beyond all others.'

_Of course it was Voldemort somehow. There better not be more dementors, too._

'Expelliarmus.' Harry thrust his wand out.

The spell dissipated on the same shield.

His opponent cackled. 'Crucio,' he crooned.

A red curse tore past Harry's ear.

'I'm free! Free!’ His cackle warbled like a cracking radio. ‘When I take you to the Dark Lord I will be his most trusted servant! Loftier than Lucius! Greater than Goyle! Better than Bellatrix!'

_He’s more mad than Quirrel._

A second red curse hissed past. The third caught him on the arm. White-hot fire wracked Harry’s body and he collapsed into the hot embers, curling up around the pain.

'I am his most loyal follower.' The mad wizard raised his wand again, its tip glowing crimson.

 _No._ Harry's gaze caught on the tip of that wand like a fish on a hook. A garbled mess of images flitted through his head. The tattered capes of the dementors, Voldemort’s red eyes and chalky skin, Pettigrew's snivelling face, and the maw of the basilisk. A shard of ice tightened somewhere near his heart.

‘Why can’t you all just leave me alone!’ Harry slashed his wand at the Death Eater.

The ash swirled against the wind.

The mad wizard cackled. Flakes of ash dusted his thin face and limp, light hair, then a vast, ebony serpent lunged out of the smoke. Its fangs crunched around the Death Eater's chest, crushing the wizard into the ground, then it vanished in an explosion of hot smoke.

Harry tottered, seized by a deep, numb ache .

The mad wizard lay still.

Harry edged close, his wand outstretched and shaking.

The wizard's ribcage was shattered. Bright, gleaming points of bone poked from black tatters and a gaping spread of red _something_. A thick, foul stench filled Harry's nose. He gagged and pressed his face into the crook of his elbow.

 _He’s dead._ He searched all around him. _That can’t have been my spell. I don’t know any magic like that!_

The smoke swirled round him. The ash floated down, covering the wizard's corpse in a thin, pale sheet.

Harry stumbled a few paces away, then slumped to the ground. _It was me. It had to gave been me. Nobody else has seen a basilisk since Tom Riddle and Moaning Myrtle._

‘Maybe it was Myrtle.’ A thin, high-pitched laugh burst from his laugh.

The ash buried his legs, soft and warm as a blanket. Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and hunched into himself.

_I think I'll just stay here for a bit._


	2. A Chance for Glory

A soft warmth blanketed Harry’s back like he was lying on a mound of pillows, but he stood upright in a small, dark space.

_Like my cupboard. Only there’re fewer spiders._

The inky black drew back. Hermione stood brewing something in a vast black cauldron. Her hair shifted from bushy brown to bright, sleek silver and back again in time with the beat of Harry’s heart.

 _That's very strange. She hasn’t been messing with polyjuice again has she?_ He reached up to rub at his glasses, but found them absent. _Why isn’t everything all blurry?_

Harry squinted at the cauldron and pretended Hermione’s hair wasn’t doing anything untoward. 'What're you making?'

She turned to face him. Her eyes had grown to almost twice their size and beneath the huge, black orbs, a cruel, hooked beak protruded.

Harry recoiled.

'Amortentia,' she whispered, dipping a ladle into the cauldron. ‘Liquid love.’ She strolled toward him, wand in one hand, ladle in the other.

Harry tried to take a step back, but found himself rooted in place.

Hermione’s brows curved into a deep vee and her vast, dark eyes narrowed. 'It's for you, Harry. Just what you need. Drink up.' She proffered the ladle.

A bright, silver liquid shimmered under his nose. Sparkling steam rose from it, warm against his nose, but he smelt nothing. Harry peered closer and found it full of twisting, slithering, silver serpents.

'I don't want to drink that.'

She raised the ladle to his lips. 'It's for your own good, Harry.'

'No,' he spluttered, turning his face away.

The silver snakes went squirming all down his front and the ladle clattered to the floor.

'You should've drunk it, Harry,' Hermione screeched. ‘You should’ve drunk it!’

She lunged. Feathers exploded over her body and her beak gaped towards his throat. A flash of green light seared at Harry’s eyes and he flinched upright with a gasp.

The familiar white sheets and square beds of the hospital wing surrounded him.

Harry pictured a small dark circle of ink on a white page until his heart slowed and his breathing calmed.

'Mr Potter.’ Madam Pomfrey’s stern tone rang out from the far end of the ward. Her heels clicked as she strode toward him. 'You're awake. Good.'

'I hope so,' Harry replied.

 _Weird, veela-Hermione dream._ He shuddered. _That dream is going straight into the too disturbing to think about category_.

Madam Pomfrey gave him an odd look. 'You're in the school hospital wing. Term hasn't actually started, but it was so close it was decided you'd be better off here than at St Mungo's once we knew you were stable.'

'What happened? I remember falling asleep in the ashes of the camp at the World Cup, but that's it.'

'You were found by one of the Bulgarian team's cheerleaders after the chaos was over. She, of course, recognised you and brought you to the nearest hospital point. The Weasley family and Miss Granger then brought you here once your condition was established to be non-severe.'

'Are they all okay?'

'Miss Granger and the Weasley family were all quite worried, but otherwise fine. You however, Mr Potter, have somehow exhausted yourself well past what ought to be possible for a child your age, and in recovery you have set a new record for your lengthiest stay in my hospital wing. I daresay it is the first time that a student has managed that before term has begun.'

'That's good.' Harry released a quiet sigh.

_They’re all ok._

Madam Pomfrey fixed him with a stern look. 'It's not good, Mr Potter. Honestly, you seem to almost die at the end of every year, you'd think you might have learnt some caution by now.'

'It's the start of the year,' Harry said. 'I wasn't expecting anything for months.'

'Be that as it may, Mr Potter, you are awake. Once I have made sure you are fine, you may return to Gryffindor Tower.' The nurse placed the tip of her wand against his forehead, tutting when Harry flinched.

'Everything seems fine.' She nodded. 'Off with you and don't let me see you back in this bed for the rest of the year.'

 _At least I can finally use my wand to do magic again._ Harry charmed his hospital gown into the guise of a set of school robes and padded toward the Great Hall in borrowed slippers. _I hope they saved my stuff and Hedwig._

'You're alive.' Ron greeted him midway across the Great Hall.

'Yes, Ron,' Hermione said. 'That's a great way to say hello to your friend who was in a coma because he used too much magic.'

'I don't mind.' Harry laughed at the outraged expression on her face and walked with them toward the Gryffindor common room.

'So what happened, mate?' Ron prodded him on the arm.

 _I killed someone._ He felt the bile rise and swallowed it and everything else that’d churned up with it back down somewhere safe. _Someone who probably deserved it, but still._

'I'm not actually sure,' he said. 'It was just chaos. One moment I was running with you guys, then I got hit by something and a few minutes ago I was waking up in the hospital wing.'

'The healer at the World Cup said you’d forced so much magic out of yourself you should be dead, Harry.' Hermione folded her arms. 'That means you tried to push so much magic into a spell that it took every scrap of energy you could muster and your basic body functions almost shut down as a result.'

_The basilisk. Whatever I did, did that, but I just remember being angry._

'I don't remember casting a spell like that.' Harry shrugged. 'So what actually happened to cause all that havoc?'

Ron gaped. 'They haven't told you yet?!’

Hermione sighed and let her arms slip back to her sides. 'Harry only just woke up, Ron. How could he know?'

'Oh.' Ron rubbed at his freckled nose. 'Well, it was Death Eaters, mate. They attacked the site, only you can't tell anyone I said that, because we heard it listening to Percy and Dad talking before work. Apparently, they went after the muggles near the site and anyone nearby they didn’t like. It's been chaos at the Ministry and Dad reckons something's up, because Percy's boss, Mr Crouch, has supposedly resigned–‘

'That's not what they said.' Hermione frowned and gnawed at her lip. 'Mr Crouch is supposed to be resigning later in the year. Something’s happening that he's organised before he can retire easily. He's tendered his resignation unofficially according to Percy.'

'Same thing, Hermione,' Ron said.

Harry shook his head. 'It's not the same thing, it means whatever he's doing must be really important if he has to carry on after that fiasco.'

'There are loads of rumours flying around the Ministry. Bill says he heard one of the auror captains talking about Barty Crouch's son being found dead in the campsite.'

A cold chill traced down Harry’s spine.

'He was a Death Eater, Harry,' Hermione said. 'Honestly, Ron, you never explain anything properly. Barty Crouch Junior was supposed to have died in Azkaban ages ago.'

‘What else happened?' Harry asked.

 _At least you know he did deserve it._ The small voice piped up from somewhere in the back of his mind. _You killed before._ The voice that sounded like Riddle returned with it. _Professor Quirrell quite literally died by your hands. And you did grab him on purpose…_

'Not much,' Hermione replied. 'We were all so worried about you. Mrs Weasley went around every healing point trying to find you.'

'Yeah. Mum was beside herself. Thought you were dead.' Ron rolled his eyes. 'I told her you weren’t going to just give up and die after all the stuff you’ve got through already. Some gorgeous Bulgarian girl carried you to the refuge tents in her arms about an hour or so later. It might have been worth being injured just to be in her arms.'

Hermione elbowed Ron in the stomach. 'It's not funny, Ron. That was a _veela_ , they're not just pretty faces you know.'

'They _are_ gorgeous, though,' Harry noted, only to receive Hermione's elbow himself. He rubbed at where her sharp elbow had dug into his ribs. 'So, when does term start?'

'Today, Harry,' she told him.

'Where is everyone, then?'

'It's only ten, mate.' Ron waved a hand at the ceiling. 'Still another hour or so before anyone arrives. You need to speak to Dumbledore about what happened. He asked us to tell you when you were awake.'

'I need to change as well,' Harry said.

Hermione shot him a odd look. 'You're in school robes, Harry.’

'I charmed my hospital gown,' he said. 'I don't know how long it will last.'

'That's quite advanced spell-work, Harry.' Hermione beamed at him. 'I only read about doing that last year.'

'Headmaster first, then. Get it out of the way.' He detoured toward the gargoyle. A knot of dread coiled tighter in his stomach with every step.

'Sugar quills,' Hermione commanded the gargoyle.

'Ah, Harry.' The old headmaster opened the door with a smile. 'Come and have a seat. Are you feeling better?'

 _A bit sick, really._ He tried to bury the images of Barty Crouch Junior’s corpse. _I did nothing wrong. He was a Death Eater and it was self defence._

'Much better, sir.'

'I was beginning to fear you might not wake up in time for the school year and end up missing classes.’ Dumbledore steepled his fingers. ‘It would be a shame to be so behind on your schoolwork so soon.’

The portraits snoozed on the walls of the office, but Fawkes peered at him with a beady eye.

_I'm sure Snape would've been gutted if I'd missed potions._

'Do you remember what happened?' Dumbledore asked. 'I don't want you to feel I'm forcing you to think about anything unpleasant, some quite atrocious things were done to the muggle owners of the site, but anything you can tell me may help bring the perpetrator’s to justice, Harry.'

'Actually I don't remember much at all, sir,' Harry said. 'We tried to run out of the camp into the woods, but something hit me and I blacked out. As you know, I was found afterward and brought here.'

The old headmaster ran a hand through his famous, silver beard. 'At least you don't remember anything terrible, then.' He smiled. 'You're too young to have to live with such things.'

'Professor Dumbledore?' Harry measured his words on the tip of his tongue. 'Is it true about Barty Crouch's son? The Death Eater? I heard he was found in the camp.'

'Unfortunately it does seem to be the case, though I recommend you keep this information to yourselves. It could cause great panic if everyone suddenly starts to think Azkaban can't keep hold of its prisoners.'

'We will, professor,' Hermione promised.

'You had best go and prepare for the welcoming feast, Harry,' Professor Dumbledore suggested with a twinkle in his eye. 'Those charmed robes, while impressive, may not last for the whole meal.'

'I was just going to, sir.'

'Very well, then. Try and stay out of trouble this year, Harry. There will be unfamiliar faces around us soon.'

'Of course there will unfamiliar faces,' Ron blurted the moment the gargoyle closed. 'The first years will be here, they come every year.'

'I doubt he means the first years, Ron.' Hermione laughed. 'It's probably something to do with whatever Mr Crouch was organising. He mentioned being at Hogwarts to Percy at the World Cup. He seemed quite cross that Bertha Jorkins had up and vanished on him, I got the impression she was meant to be organising and sorting a fair amount of it out for him.'

The fire at the heart of the Gryffindor common room crackled in front of empty chairs. The gold and red hangings swayed in the faint chimney draft, rattling against the stone walls. A thick sheaf of parchment fluttered on the notice board.

‘Look, someone’s given us our schedules!’ Hermione accelerated across the floor, dragging both Harry and Ron on either arm.

 _Someone who deserves a good hexing._ Harry exchanged a grin with Ron. _She’s about to get stuck into one of us over our choices._

Hermione glanced at Ron’s and went pink in the face. ‘Divination! Just because you think it’s an easy OWL doesn’t mean you should suck up that washed up old bat’s drivel, Ronald!’

Harry slipped away to change, listening to Hermione’s voice echo up the stairs while she chewed Ron out.

‘It’s not the right attitude,’ she scolded as he returned. ‘You’re not here just to get some easy grades, Ron. You need to know this stuff for later life!’

 _Well, best to remove mine before she gets stuck into that, too._ Harry pulled his out of the bundle.

Hermione’s gaze snapped to him and she tugged the schedule from his hands.

He frowned. _It’s not very polite to just snatch it out of my hand. What if I’d minded sharing it?_

'Fourth year Ancient Runes and Arithmancy,' Hermione read aloud. 'How did you get into the classes without doing the third year exams?'

Harry grinned. ‘ _Magic._ ’

She huffed. ‘Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll find out from Mcgonagall.’

'Why did you take those?' All the blood had drained from Ron’s face. 'Divination and Magical Creatures are easy OWLs. You've gone and done a Hermione, mate.'

'If by that you mean he's made an intelligent decision about his future, then you are quite right, Ron.' She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, then bit her lip and waved Harry's schedule at him. 'You might be really far behind in your electives, Harry. It's good you want to try, but I don't know if you'll able to manage everything.'

 _Thanks for the faith._ A flicker of irritation passed through him.

'I'm sure, I'll be fine.'

 _More than fine._ Harry thought back to his list. _Ancient Runes has a couple of tricky long essays, but is mostly about arrays and intuition_. _Arithmancy’s just the magic of maths, it’s the most logical of all the subjects_. _All pretty easy to visualise and not too much writing._

'If you say so.' Hermione gnawed at her lip again. ‘I’m just worried you’ll really struggle. You’re not at the bottom of the class or anything, Harry, but you’ve picked a tough couple of subjects for you.’

Harry swallowed down another short flare of annoyance. ‘I’ll be fine, Hermione. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Well, when you need help, you can always come to me, Harry.’

 _Oh I can, can I?_ He clenched his jaw and took a quiet, deep breath.

Ron glanced between the two of them a couple of times. 'The welcoming feast starts soon. We should go down and join everyone.'

'Yeah.' Harry slipped his wand into his sleeve. 'Let's go.'

Students teemed in the corridors, their shouts bounced off the ceiling, a cacophony of footsteps and conversation reverberated through the castle like a thunderstorm. Younger students brushed past him as he wove round groups of older ones.

 _Loud._ Harry frowned as a cluster of second years squirmed through the three of them. _And they always get so close._

He joined Neville and Seamus about halfway along the table. Ron slipped in alongside him, gazing down at his sparkling plate with some consternation.

Harry patted him on the shoulder. 'Food soon, Ron.'

The sorting hat drooped on the chair at the front.

_No doubt it’ll be singing soon. And that’s always loud._

'Do you think it makes up a new song every year?' Harry wondered as it broke into verse.

'Dunno, mate, but my brothers say they've never heard the same one twice.'

'That probably means it does. Your brothers must've covered the last decade and it does have all year to write them.'

'When it's not delivering swords to you, you mean,' Ron said.

'It's a good thing it does deliver swords,' Harry replied with a chuckle. 'What happens if there's another giant snake in Hogwarts and Neville needs to kill it? He can't be expected to go get the sword himself now can he.'

‘Hush,’ Hermione hissed. ‘You’re not supposed to be talking.’

The first years squeezed onto the ends of the tables and Dumbledore rose to speak.

Harry cocked his head. _If something really is happening, he’ll probably mention it now. Let’s hope it’s not another deathtrap corridor, dementor swarm, or giant snake._

'A few announcements before we all get too distracted by our impending food to forget them. Firstly, I would like to welcome Professor Moody to our teaching staff. He will be taking over the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Secondly, I must remind members of all years that the Forbidden Forest is so named for a reason. And lastly, this year, after centuries, a great sporting event will be making its return. This means, unfortunately, that there will be no quidditch.'

A murmur of rose from the hall at this announcement. It blossomed into full mutiny.

_They were less upset about that time a troll got in and nearly killed us._

'The Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts come October,' the headmaster said. 'A chance, for those who enter, to earn eternal glory as school champion.'

'So that's what's happening!' Ron pounded the table with his fist. 'I'm definitely putting my name in. He let out a long sigh. ‘Eternal glory…'

'Professor Moody looks none to impressed about it,' Hermione said.

The new teacher's gash of a mouth turned down, twisting the scar-ravaged face above into a forbidding frown.

'He looks like he's been through the wars,' Harry noted.

'He has,' Ron said. 'That's Mad-Eye Moody, that is. Dad says he was one of the greatest aurors back in the war against You-Know-Who, but that he's sort of lost it recently. Can’t deal with peace time, or something like that.'

'His eye is a bit creepy,' Neville piped up.

Ron nodded. 'It's supposed to be magic. Don't know what it actually does, though.'

Harry helped himself to bread, avoiding Hermione’s attempts place dishes pointedly close to his plate. He scrapped some butter across it and took a small bite.

'You need to eat more than just bread, Harry.' Hermione tried to spoon half a bowl potatoes onto his plate. ‘You’ve been in a coma!’

Harry deflected the serving of potatoes onto Ron’s plate. 'Ron's eaten enough for all three of us.'

Ron speared and devoured the largest of the potatoes without pausing for breath.

She huffed. 'Just because Ron eats enough food for a small country doesn't mean you should starve yourself to compensate.’

 _Is this what having a mother is like?_ Harry wrinkled his brow. _How annoying._

'I'm doing it out of protest,' he tried. 'The food is all made house elves. That's practically _slavery_ , Hermione. I can't exploit their efforts in good conscience.'

Hermione dropped her fork as if it had bitten her.

'You've done it now, Harry,' Ron muttered. 'We'll be hearing about this for the rest of the year.'

'Should've taken the potatoes,' Seamus said. 'Who knows where this will lead?'

Hermione stared down into her plate of food as if it had all turned to ash in her mouth.

Seamus rolled his eyes. 'Did you hear about the World Cup?'

'Yeah,' Ron griped, 'Ireland won. Congratulations.'

'Not that.' Seamus grinned. 'Well, a little bit that, but I meant the attacks.'

'We were there.' Hermione said.

'Harry was in a coma until this morning.’ Ron swallowed what looked like half a chicken. 'He got carried out of the camp by one of those beautiful, Bulgarian cheerleaders.'

All of the nearby guys turned to stare, even Neville.

'You learn that your friend was in a coma and the first thing you do is imagine the cheerleaders.' Hermione shook her head. 'I'm going to the library.'

She stalked off down between the tables.

'Wasteful that is.' Ron helped himself to Hermione's plate. ‘Can’t leave good food to go off.’

Seamus chuckled. 'Imagine what the house elves would think?'

Dean slid into Hermione’s spot. 'What was the cheerleader like?'

Harry shrugged. 'Don't remember. I _was_ in a coma.'

'I saw them during the game,' Ron said. 'They were gorgeous.'

'Hermione said they were veela, apparently they can charm men with their magic.' Harry felt he should at least try to defend her viewpoint while her back was turned. ‘So they aren’t _naturally_ attractive. Well, they are, but they can also cheat.’

'Anyone that looks like that is going to charm me. Until they grow all this feathers at least.'

Seamus choked on a sausage. 'Feathers?!’

Ron nodded. 'When they got angry at the end of the match they grew feathers, beaks, then started throwing fireballs around. They didn't like that Bulgaria lost.’

'Is that what started all the fires then?' Neville asked.

'Nah, that was Death Eaters, or people dressed like them,' Ron said. 'Dad says there was no Dark Mark like they used back in the war, so it might not have been real Death Eaters, just sympathisers.'

'Ministry didn't catch anyone, though,' Neville piped up. 'Gran was furious that they all got away with it. She spent an hour muttering to herself about how useless Fudge is.'

Seamus grimaced. 'It doesn't exactly inspire confidence. Still, the Irish won, and that's what counts.'

Harry forced down a few more bites and pinched his nose to drink some pumpkin juice.

'Let's head back to the common room,' Dean suggested. 'I've got to unpack everything still, but I'm fairly sure I've brought the new exploding snap cards to replace the ones Lavender lost. Anyone fancy a round or two?'

A quite murmur of mutual consent rang round the table and the group rose to return to Gryffindor Tower.

'Harry.' Three familiar voices caught him halfway along the hall.

'Angelina, Alicia, Katie.' He smiled at them each in turn. ‘You look quite unhappy.’

‘They cancelled _quidditch_ ,' Katie fumed. 'This was going to be a really important year for us. We needed to start to add new faces to the squad, like a keeper, or the other teams will start to catch us up.'

Harry chuckled. 'At least you've got the Triwizard tournament. Eternal glory obviously can’t compete with quidditch, but at a pinch…'

Alicia and Angelina laughed, but Katie continued to fume.

'Aren’t you going to enter?' Angelina asked. 'I am.'

'No,' Harry said. 'I'm going for a nice quiet year. No snakes, no dogs, no dementors, and hopefully no more trips to Madam Pomfrey, either.'

'Fair enough,' Alicia said. 'Hogwarts' champion will be from the upper years anyway. We know more than you cute little fourth years.'

Harry dodged the attempted pat on the cheek. 'Where do the other two champions come from?'

'Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, they're magical schools in Europe. Some of their students will probably come here to support their champions when we compete.'

'Well good luck, Angelina.’ He waved a hand toward the tower. ‘I promised the guys I'd play exploding snap with them.'

'Bye, Harry,' they called after him.

 _Something will go wrong, though._ Harry slipped through the stream of students heading from the hall. _Something always does._ Barty Crouch Junior’s face and the basilisk, part ash spell, part creature from the chamber, flashed through his head. _I should be ready. Every time something goes wrong, I scrape out of it with luck and a lot of help, but that Death Eater caught me without either. If it happens again, I’d be good as dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do check out my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	3. A Fire Shall be Woken

'Welcome back to potions.' Snape's drawl penetrated the gloom of the dungeons better than the absent daylight, the smell of lead, or even the sharpest knife.

Harry repressed the urge to sigh. _No doubt Professor Positivity will be continuing his best efforts to make this class miserable for each and everyone of us, and especially me_.

Snape’s dark eyes flashed and his lips twisted into a sneer. 'This is the year before OWLs and thus the year in which those who truly have the talent for potions begin to separate themselves from those too lazy to apply themselves to such a delicate art.'

 _Where does he even get his impression of me from?_ Harry didn't need to look up to know that the eyes of his professor were fixed on him. _Presumably he just has severe personal issues. All the time in the dark and the constant exposure to toxic ingredients can’t be good for anyone's health, mental or otherwise._

'The instructions are on the board.' Snape flourished his wand at the blackboard and a long list of cramped white writing appeared. 'Begin.’

 _At least I know a bit more about what I’m doing this year._ Harry sighed and reached for his new, expensive, silver-plated knife. _All the high-quality, inert metal equipment’s so pricey, no wonder it’s only the Malfoys of the world who can afford to do well._

Ron slaved over his cauldron on the closest bench with all the delicacy of a confunded troll. His _neatly diced toad liver_ had gone into the frothing mess in misshapen chunks and twice as much sneezewort as necessary had followed it.

 _It might be a good idea to finish before that explodes_.

He poked his leeches with the tip of his knife and tried to recall some of his summer reading. _Easily contaminated and quick to dissolve. The size and shape is really important._ Harry spared a glance at Malfoy, who was attempting to cut his in mid-air while poor Pansy Parkinson flinched away from his ornately engraved knife. _I heard a rumour their parents want them to marry, but he doesn’t seem too concerned about ruining her looks with that knife. I guess Madam Pomfrey can probably heal it._

Harry sliced his leeches using his old knife as a chopping board, trying his best to avoid letting any of the slimy creature touch the desk, or anything else. He flicked the neat squares in and to his delight the potion shifting toward the described shimmering turquoise. ‘That actually went ok.’

He snuck a peek at Hermione's as she prepared a vial. It was the exact shade of turquoise described by Snape, but he fancied his potion had more of the right kind of shimmer to it.

 _And I’m among the first to finish, so Snape can’t come and linger over me._ Harry hid a smile. _That ought to ruin his morning._

Snape gave dismissive sneer as he placed his vial in the rack, but Harry felt his eyes tracking him all the way back to his desk.

When he turned around, however, he found Snape had moved on to lurk over Neville. Neville’s potion turned from a passable deep blue to a shade of yellow so sickly and bright it attracted the attention of most of the class.

'Longbottom.' Snape tutted. 'It was going passably well, but your utterly inescapable ineptitude has proven itself... _again_.' He swept back past Harry to his gloom-shrouded desk, passing an eye over his attempt to leave his cauldron clean.

Hermione finished next, then Malfoy, and soon most of the class were making some half-hearted attempt to clean their cauldrons while Neville tried to rescue whatever concoction he’d produced this time.

Harry studied the bright, lime-green liquid from a safe distance as it started to make a strange, high-pitched keening noise like an attention starved dog. _It looks the same colour as the basilisk’s scales._ A faint urge to compare the snake to not just Neville’s potion, but his spell from the World Cup seized him. _I wonder if it’s all still there, or if it’s rotted away a lot._

'If that is everyone, you may leave,' Snape drawled from a dark corner at the back of the classroom.

 _How did he get back there without anyone noticing?_ Harry pictured Snape sneaking along the line of heavy, black curtains beneath his cloak and suppressed a snort of humour. _Either way, he’s really not helping himself with those vampire rumours._

'I won't bother assessing your work, Longbottom.' Snape vanished the contents of Neville’s cauldron. ‘The blank mark you get for not turning up would look better than what I’d give you for… _that._ ’

Harry winced as he made his way towards the door. _Neville seems to have been my substitute today, poor guy._

'Potter, if you’d be so kind as to remain behind.'

He sighed under his breath. _I knew it was too good to be true._

Snape loomed over the rack of vials on his desk and tapped Harry’s with the end of his wand. 'What do you think this is, Potter?'

Harry struggled to quell his surge of good humour without success. 'My inevitably ungradeable attempt at potions making?'

Snape’s stare remained calm. 'This is a passable attempt. Not the standard I expect from students looking to continue after OWLs, but close enough I might begin to hope of keeping the school's most prominent celebrity a little longer.'

_Wow. That sounded almost like a backhanded compliment._

'Thank you, sir.’

Snape sneered. 'You finally deciding to apply what I've been fruitlessly filling your head with is promising, but no less than the wizarding world demands from someone of your elated stature. Do not slip back into your previous levels of mediocrity.'

'I'll try my best, sir.' Harry edged toward the door, aware that Professor Mcgonagall would take a dim view of his late arrival, and that the chance of Snape providing him with a note would rival a snowball’s escape from hell.

'See that you do.' Snape disappeared into his office in a swirl of cloak and robes.

_Right._

Professor Mcgonagall shot him a tight-lipped glance as he slipped onto the back row of desks. A cage of guinea fowl clucked atop her desk, bobbing their heads about like chickens.

'Today, we will be transfiguring guinea fowl into guinea pigs.' Their stern professor flicked her wand and the cages floated across to deposit themselves in front of each student. 'This type of transformation is as complex as any we will attempt this year.'

The level of clucking escalated as the class fell to a wand waving and quiet cursing.

Harry eyed his bird. _I wonder if they get the animals from the kitchens. Maybe I should avoid poultry for the next few days in case I end up eating Neville’s one._

'Very good, Miss Granger, take ten points.' Professor Mcgonagall's voice rang out from the head of the class.

Harry raised an eyebrow in the general direction of Hermione’s sparsely feathered guinea pig and its talons. _Generous for Mcgonagall. She must be happy to be back at school._

Hermione glowed with pride.

He cast a look around the room. Seamus’ fowl’s feathers were turning green and Ron's had plucked itself.

_Ron’s probably thinking about lunch._

'Harry.' Hermione nudged his elbow. 'Aren't you even going to try? It's not that hard, you know.'

He swallowed a flicker of irritation. _Time to put my summer of study to use._ Harry tapped the guinea fowl on the head, earning a disgruntled squawk from the bird.

Hermione let out a sharp sigh. 'That's not the proper wand action, Harry. You have to–’

The guinea fowl morphed into a perfect guinea pig and Harry shot her a beatific smile.

'But – but… That was your first try.' Hermione poked his guinea pig with her wand. 'It took me almost _five_.'

'Five!' Harry plastered an expression of shock across his face. 'It's not that hard, you know.'

Hermione huffed and turned to watch Ron, whose guinea fowl was beginning to look more and more like it had been roasted.

_He’s starting to make me hungry now, too._

'Well done, Mr Potter.' Professor Mcgonagall appeared over his shoulder and Harry flinched. 'Twenty points to Gryffindor for a perfect species-switch transfiguration. I daresay you might have inherited your father's talent for my subject as well as his tendency to overlook the rules.'

Hermione crossed her arms and jabbed her wand at her guinea pig until the last few feathers had vanished and its feet lost their bird-like aspect. 'I can't believe you did that on your first try, Harry. That's really lucky. Still, points for Gryffindor.'

 _Lucky? Really?_ He rolled his eyes. _I suppose I’ve not demonstrated much consistent success before._

A loud bang echoed from the row behind. Neville's guinea fowl cage rolled along the floor, sending Seamus’ bottle of water flying.

Professor Mcgonagall levitated the cage back onto the desk. ‘Focus on the outcome you desire, Mr Longbottom. Don't just wave your wand about like a baby's rattle.'

Harry watched the water stream toward Hermione's bag and pile of books. _A disaster in the making. If it gets wet, we’ll lose half the school library._

Hermione scrambled to save her things as Harry vanished the liquid with his wand tucked under his arm. 'Thank you, professor,' she exclaimed.

'Pardon me, Miss Granger?' Professor Mcgonagall lowered the stack of paper in her hands.

'Nothing, professor.' Hermione frowned. 'Vanishing is an advanced fifth year spell,' she muttered. 'I can't do a vanishing spell yet. If I could, I’d use it on Ron's stupid quidditch posters.'

Harry laughed and tucked his wand back into his sleeve. _Best not let her realise it was me after I already did the guinea pig spell so well._

Hermione pulled out a thick book and a small piece of parchment. She poked it with the tip of her wand, whispering the vanishing spell’s incantation over and over.

Harry studied the edges of the torn fragment as they started to fade. _It’s not taking her long to get the hang of it. Hopefully she’s not going to insist on trying all day, though._

He packed his things away as Professor Mcgonagall dismissed them and hurried to the Great Hall for lunch.

Ron groaned. ‘No chicken.’

Harry snorted. ‘I did think your guinea fowl was starting to look like you were hoping to have it for lunch.’

_I wonder if he was imagining how it would taste when he was trying to transfigure it. That might explain what happened._

‘Mum does do a mean bird roast.’ Ron sighed and hacked off a huge piece of ham. ‘Oh well, gammon’s not so bad.’

'What did Snape want, Harry?' Neville asked between bites of a fist-thick sandwich.

'Told me my work was finally passable and that I shouldn't slide back into mediocrity.' Harry watched several slices of radish escape Neville's lunch and make a bid for freedom across the table. They rolled only as far as Ron, who gratefully accepted the contribution to his meal.

'That was awfully nice of him.' Ron sniggered. 'Did he deduct points to compensate as well?'

'No. He didn't take any points off me today actually. Maybe he’s ill.'

'Odd, normally at least ten are gone in our first potions lesson, maybe he was happy about something and forgot,’ Seamus said.

'What would Snape be happy about?' Ron asked.

'He's probably anticipating failing us for all our OWL exams.' Neville stared down into his sandwich like it was Professor Trelawney’s crystal ball. 'My gran will kill me if I don't get at least 6 OWLs like my father did.'

'It's two years away, Nev,' Ron cried. 'Harry has to go through two near-death experiences first, you've got a huge advantage!'

The table laughed with the exception of Hermione, who jabbed her wand at the piece of parchment, picking pieces of salad off her place with her free hand.

'I've had my near-death experience for this year, thanks,' Harry said.

'It doesn't count, mate,' Ron said. 'The Bulgarian cheerleader cancels it out.'

The guys nodded.

'She wasn't _that_ gorgeous, Ron,' Harry replied. 'And all she did was carry me while I was unconscious. Hardly anything to be proud of.'

'She was a veela, Harry,' Dean said. 'Those legends about the sirens in the Odyssey are supposed to be based on veela. You've outdone Odysseus.'

Seamus, Ron, and Neville shot him blank looks.

'It's a really famous story!' Dean waved his hands in the air. 'How could you have not heard of it? Harry, Hermione, back me up. Everyone knows about the Iliad and the Odyssey.'

Hermione jabbed her wand at the piece of parchment again, lunch forgotten.

_She’s really not taking it well. I suppose I should come clean._

Harry leant over Hermione's shoulder and tapped his wand against the small fragment of parchment. It faded away like smoke into the breeze.

Hermione whirled around like a viper. 'How did you do that?' she hissed. 'I've been trying since transfiguration.'

'It's not too tricky, you just have to visualise what you want to happen and really focus when you perform the spell.' He shrugged. 'It's like all magic really, but it affects transfiguration more.'

She huffed and reached for another piece of parchment.

Harry caught her hand. 'It's an advanced OWL year spell, Hermione. You’ve got plenty of time to practise it. Can't have you starving. And someone needs to help Dean and I defend the Odyssey.'

'The Odyssey?'

'See,' Ron crowed. 'Hermione doesn't know about it and that means virtually nobody does.'

Hermione shook her head. 'I know about the Odyssey, Ron. It's one of the most famous stories ever written and it's over two thousand years old, but I have no idea why you're all talking about it.'

Seamus paused, then gulped. 'Er… Dean said there’re veela in it.’

'Are attractive, part-human women all you boys ever think about it?!' Her flush faded to a frown. 'I assume he was referring to the sirens that Odysseus encounters.'

Harry nodded.

'He's probably right,' she said. 'But you can't still be thinking about the Bulgarian cheerleaders! Their charm only works when you're actually looking at them.'

Ron adopted a dreamy expression. 'They were _goddesses_.'

Hermione crossed her arms and sighed. ‘ _Boys._ ’

Ron, Seamus, and Dean began to whisper about veela, but Hermione slid the jug of pumpkin juice in between Harry and their conversation. 'How did you get so good at transfiguration so quickly?’

_Ah, so she’s realised it wasn’t just luck, after all._

'I spent the summer reading up on all the theory. I never bothered before, because I'd just picture what I wanted to happen and with a bit of practice I'd get the hang of it. It worked alright for me in most subjects, but now I actually know the detail about what I’m doing, I'd imagine transfiguration will be one of my best. It’s quite visual, which suits me. My dad was supposed to be really good at it, too.'

'Oh.' Hermione chewed her lip. 'I’m sorry, Harry. I didn't know he was so good at transfiguration.'

Harry laughed. 'He and his friends were animagi during their mid-school years. You realise that even basic human transfiguration isn't covered until our last two years, let alone full animagus transformations.'

'That does make sense.' Hermione’s lips twisted, then contorted into a smile. 'It's good you've started studying seriously, Harry. I hope you keep doing so well.’

'Time for charms.' Ron threw a long look at the food, then dragged his bag out from under the table and hauled himself to his feet.

Flitwick perched on a stack of books at the front of his classroom. 'Repairing, summoning, and banishing charms,' he squeaked as they entered.

Harry frowned. _Hermione’s going be to cross with me again. I know two of these already. Though she at least knows the repairing charm._

'We'll be starting with the mending charm and moving on to the others after Christmas.' Flitwick waved his wand at the year plan on the board. ‘Theory first, I’m afraid.’

Ron groaned. 'Not a theory lesson.'

Quills scratched over parchment as the class resigned themselves to taking notes. Harry flicked a little further through the textbook to the banishing charm. Hermione opened her book to the same page.

Harry smiled. _I’m still doing well, then._ He skipped the history of the charm and scanned the paragraphs on its specific theory. _Summoning, but in reverse. Let’s give it a try._

He whispered the incantation and aimed it at the ink pot of Zacharias Smith, a rather pretentious Hufflepuff. A soft ripple of air crossed the class, fading out before it reached his target. Harry tried again. The pot slid across the desk, spilling ink across Zacharias' notes.

Harry returned his wand to his sleeve as the Hufflepuff student look glared around the room. _Apart from the essays, I should do pretty well this year._

‘Sir! Sir!’ Zacharias waved parchment spattered with poisonous green ink in the direction of Professor Flitwick. ‘Someone ruined my work, sir!’

_Basilisk green._ Harry plotted the route from his classes to the Chamber of Secrets as he watched the hands of the clock crawl toward the end of charms. _Ancient Runes is closest. I can sneak down there afterward._

‘Ok, that’ll do for this lesson.’ Flitwick waved his wand and the door to the classroom creaked open. ‘I’ll see you all next time.’

Hermione stacked her books back into her bag. 'Did you flick any further through the book, Harry?'

'Not really,' he said. 'I skimmed some bits. The summoning and banishing charm both looked quite useful.'

Hermione beamed. 'They do. Summoning is a very useful charms, it will save everyone so much time at the library.'

Harry grinned. 'Madam Pince will murder you if she catches you summoning her books, Hermione.’

'What she doesn't know won't upset her,' Hermione bounced along the corridor. ‘It’s not actually against the rules, anyway. I checked.’

Ron stumbled after them, rubbing his eyes and yawning. ‘Of course you checked the rules,’ he muttered. ‘If I wrote a fancy looking list that said all girls have to sit on the floor in the common room, you’d be cross-legged by the fire before I could blink.’

Hermione shot him a glare. 'Harry, you said you found you were good at the visual bits, so in return for lending my notes for essays, would you give me some pointers for casting the spells themselves?'

'Of course. You don't really need them, but if you want to, that’s fine.'

She bobbed her head. 'I understand all the theory, of course, but my spells never work first time. I thought it might be worth trying how you visualise them and seeing if it works quicker for me.'

'I learnt a good way of focusing,' Harry said. 'I've some mind-clearing exercises I found over the summer. Muggle stuff, but I doubt the magical versions are much different. I can teach you the muggle ones, but it turns out all the mind magic stuff is in the restricted section.'

‘Good idea,' Hermione said. 'Ron needs those, too. All he does is think about how long is left until the next meal.'

Ron threw her a mutinous look.

Harry laughed. ‘She’s not entirely wrong, mate.’

‘She didn’t have to say it like that,’ Ron groused.

'I'm going to the library,' Hermione announced. 'I want to get the essay out of the way before all the other professors give their first homework as well. Come on, Ron. If you want me to help you, it’s now or never.' She skipped past the portrait entrance to the tower, trailed by a crestfallen Ron.

Harry murmured the password and slipped in through passage to a chair close to the fire. The other students flooded upstairs to the dormitories.

‘Last chance for casual quidditch!’ Katie shouted from somewhere in the huddle. ‘Observers welcome!’

The common room emptied.

Harry stared into the fire. The glowing ash and smoke brought back images of the camp at the World Cup. _I wonder if I can do it again, somehow._ He pictured the serpent he’d conjured from the ash and slashed his wand at the fire.

The flames rippled, then settled back into the grate.

‘Maybe I need to be more detailed.’ Harry imagined the basilisk forming from fire, picturing the red-tongues of flame curling into the shape of a serpent and striking.

A flaming basilisk lunged fireplace, fangs agape.

He threw himself backward out of his chair. The heat washed past his face, singing his cheeks.

‘Idiot.’ He pushed himself back to his feet, swearing under his breath, and brushing ash and dust of his robes. A thrill rushed through his veins and his heart pounded. ‘You nearly set fire to yourself.’

Harry glanced at the flames, then back around the empty common room. _No. It’s a bad idea._ He stuffed his wand back up his sleeve and pictured the circle of blank ink on parchment until the temptation faded. _We can try again later. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere safer. Somewhere like the Chamber of Secrets._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	4. The Secrets of the Chamber

'Open.' Harry stared at the snake engraved tap.

It remained quite still.

Myrtle giggled and drifted from the safety of her cubicle. 'It doesn't work if you don't speak to snakes.’

'I _can_ speak to snakes.’

'Well, you were only speaking English.’ Myrtle flashed him a shy smile. ‘I never did say thank you for killing the monster. You're my hero, Harry.'

'Er, thanks Myrtle.' He tried not to edge away as she drifted within arm’s reach. ‘I – er, appreciate it.’ Harry pictured a particular fire-conjured snake in his head. 'Open.’

The tap shuddered and the sinks split apart to reveal the entrance. A thick layer of slime, grime, and sludge coated the pipe that curved down into the dark.

Myrtle cheered. 'That's more like it!’

 _She’s actually half-pretty when she smiles._ Harry frowned. _This is one of those puberty things, isn’t it? C’mon hormones, let’s not make me act like Dudley._

'It sounds the same to me,' Harry said. 'I can't tell if I'm speaking parseltongue just by listening.'

'That was definitely parseltongue. It sounded just like before.' Myrtle’s face fell. 'When _he_ used to come here.'

'Sorry. I didn't mean to remind you.'

'That's ok, Harry. You weren't the one responsible. I blame Olive Hornby more than him, anyway.' Myrtle's face twisted into a grimace. ‘Stupid Horny, she got me killed.’

Harry pursed his lips at the slimy pipe. ‘I forgot about that. Honestly, where’s Dobby when you actually need him?’ He sighed. ‘Probably out somewhere trying to harm or grievously injure another innocent child.’

'There are steps, you know.' Myrtle hovered over the entrance and peering into the pipe. 'The red-haired girl who spoke in _his_ voice made steps.'

He spared the brown sludge a long look. ‘Definitely worth trying. _Stairs._ '

The pipe twisted away to reveal a rather dusty, dark staircase.

Harry followed a small set of footsteps down through the dust into the dark. _Ginny's steps_. His skin crawled as the silent gloom coiled round him. _Poor girl._

A second door identical to the one he’d encountered on his last visit blocked his path. It opened at his hissed command and he stepped into the Chamber of Secrets.

Bones crunched beneath his feet as his strode forward. The giant snake skin still sprawled across the floor, its green gleam faded to dull white. Beyond it, bright, poisonous green scales shone with iridescence.

Harry traced the length of it and felt his jaw drop. _How did I manage to survive that monster, let alone kill it? It’s at least seventy feet long!_ He drifted round to its mouth and held his arm up beside its fangs. _They’re as long and thick as my forearm._

‘King of serpents indeed.’ Harry walked the length of its body, trailing his fingertips along its scales. ‘It‘s identical to the one I conjured, albeit much larger.’

A dark stain marked the stone close to its tail. Harry shot it a glare and stepped over it to stand before the giant bust. _I wonder if I can open the door, too._

'Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four.'

The mouth opened with a stony scrape.

Chill fingers seized Harry’s spine. _There better not be another giant snake. Why did I open the bloody door?_

'What a ridiculous way to open the door, it responds to virtually any command in parseltongue, you know.' A high, even voice echoed from within the bust.

Harry stared into the dark beyond the bust’s lips. _Well, it’s not Riddle. Riddle would never make fun of his own ostentatious phrasing._

'And no, I won't speak to you.'

 _That can't possibly be the voice of Salazar Slytherin._ Harry eyed the water. _Well, finding out is probably worth getting very cold and wet. Just. Still, if there were stairs…_

'Bridge?' Harry grinned as stone a serpent's tongue rose from the pool, extending as if from the mouth of Slytherin himself. He put one foot on the forked tip of the tongue.

'Oh, by all means come in,' the voice said. 'I'd _love_ another visitor. My other company all turned out delightfully well. An insane reptile and an only marginally more sane child with delusions of grandeur.'

Harry strode across the bridge and through into the inside of Slytherin's mouth.

Shelves of dusty books lined the circular walls, interspersed with odd magical instruments, and a carved marble basin rather like the one he’d often glimpsed in Dumbledore's cabinet sat opposite the door.

‘The other one stood there and gawped, too.'

Harry whirled round. The portrait of a rather young, formidable looking wizard dressed in green and silver robes hung over the door. A snake of some sort wrapped around his shoulders, just below where his ebony hair hung.

'Well, you look sane,' the portrait mused. 'But the last one did and look how well _that_ turned out.'

'Who are you?' Harry enquired.

'Portraits are _named_.' The dark-haired wizard sighed. 'I always hated children.'

'Salazar Slytherin… If you hate children, why found a school?'

'It wasn't safe for magical children to just learn their craft all over the place. Don't you know anything about the burnings?' The sarcasm turned to bitter disgust.

'Witch burning?'

'Sort of. The muggles couldn't actually burn witches and wizards, but they got a fair few of our children after they were seen performing accidental magic. Burning children alive.' The portrait’s eyes flashed. 'And they called _us_ demons. Hogwarts was a haven for magical children. They were taught how to control and even hide themselves for their own safety.'

'You don't leave a basilisk that eats children in a school!'

'She was meant to sleep until the school was under attack,' Slytherin snapped. 'A basilisk is very hard to kill, especially for those without magic. Had anyone ever tried to get to the children here, she would have protected them with her life. It worked perfectly until my last visitor twisted my commands to his own ends.'

'Tom Riddle,' Harry muttered.

'Yes. Basilisks are renowned not only for their power, but their loyalty, too. She devoted herself to her creator and my command to protect the children from the outside world. Tom Riddle corrupted my creation and set her on the children who’d come from the outside world to learn here.'

Harry felt a small stab of pity for the serpent. 'It's good thing she's dead, then.’

'Dead?' Slytherin raised an eyebrow. 'Who managed to kill her?'

'I did.’

'You are my heir, I suppose. You would be powerful.'

'I am _not_ your heir,' Harry said.

_I’m not going through all that nonsense again._

Slytherin took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'You speak parseltongue. It’s an ability I recreated and is tied to my bloodline. Only my direct descendants can speak it and as I have no desire to ever see Tom Riddle again, that makes you my heir.'

'Sorry,' Harry mumbled. 'The school all thought I was your heir in my second year when the basilisk was attacking students. They blamed me.'

'You can't really blame them,' Slytherin replied. 'You _do_ speak parseltongue. I assume you're in my house?'

'Gryffindor, actually.'

'Gryffindor!? What is my descendant, my heir, doing in the house of that reckless, moronic, immature excuse for a wizard? The whole reason I had to build this chamber was because that child of a man couldn't resist his urge to sabotage my work…’ Slytherin’s voice faded to a grumble. ‘And all Helga would do is laugh.'

‘That doesn’t sound like Godric Gryffindor.’

'Did you think he was noble, brave hero?' Slytherin shook his head. 'That wizard never matured beyond the age of eighteen. He was an exceptional transfigurer, quite brilliant and very creative, but cursed with a child's sense of humour. Most of the things he _did_ around this school were actually done by Rowena and I after the idiot injured himself trying to enchant things in overly complicated ways.'

'I'm quite good at transfiguration,' Harry offered. 'The hat did suggest Slytherin, but I chose Gryffindor.'

'Why would you do that?' Slytherin’s wand spurted white sparks and the snake retreated into his robes. 'Who’d want to live in a tower when they could have a view out into the Black Lake? And griffons? Stupid creatures. About as smart as a cow, much deadlier, and less useful. Snakes are far better.'

Harry stared at the ceiling until the muttering faded away. 'I'm Harry Potter.' He stuck his hand out to the picture.

'Salazar Slytherin. I can't shake it, but I appreciate your manners.'

'I think I have to go to class now.’

'How old are you?' Slytherin asked.

'Fourteen.'

The painting’s green eyes bored into his. 'Your eyes are older. You’re my heir, return here whenever you like. My library and study are yours, provided you're tidy and not as childish as Godric.'

'Thank you.’

Harry strode back over the forked tongue and jogged up the stairs, taking them three at a time until he stumbled into Myrtle’s bathroom. _I’m probably really late for Ancient Runes._

He hurried past the Great Hall and down the corridor, catching sight of Bathsheda Babbling doing her best to live up to her name amongst a gaggle of seventh years. Harry slipped past her to join Hermione in the front row. The walls were covered in multi-coloured posters, the office door itself was wrapped in parchment and covered in tiny sections of text.

Professor Babbling bounced into the classroom and spread her arms. 'Welcome back to Ancient Runes! Happily, everyone survived from third year. We even have an additional student, one who needs no introduction.'

The students turned to look at him, his scar, then twisted back to face their smiling professor.

'I trust you've all brought your copies of _Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms_.' Professor Babbling plucked hers off the desk and waved it over her head. 'As this is the first lesson, I'll allow you to recap anything you feel you need to or just get started on the material for this year while I chat with Harry.' She smiled at him and gestured toward the parchment-covered door. ‘Mind joining me in my office, Harry.'

'Of course not, professor.' Harry abandoned his well-thumbed textbook.

She led him into a small, cramped room with walls covered in a patchwork of large pieces of parchment. Runes and notes were scrawled all across it in a dozen different bright colours.

Professor Babbling waved her hand at the walls. 'My office is my playground. Now, why did you decide to switch to my class?'

'I find runes quite interesting. It’s quite different to the wand magic I’m kind of used to and, if I'm being completely honest, Professor Trelawney was a bit _too_ fond of predicting my death.'

'How horrible,' Professor Babbling said. 'I'm glad you’ve a genuine interest in the subject. This is a small group and we tend to move quite fast, so anyone not completely on board can get left behind.' Her gaze focused on something just past Harry's head. 'Back to class, then. I won't pass your concerns about Professor Trelawney on. Just between the two of us, I've never really had time for a subject as imprecise and vague as divination.'

Harry spared a glance at the wall as he left. A bright pink zig-zag and a small, neat paragraph of handwriting stood out of the rest. _Sowilo._ He touched a finger to his scar as he took his seat beside Hermione. _Stupid Riddle, just had to leave a scar in a funny shape, didn’t he?_

He flicked through the pages of his book, underlining key parts with his quill and jotting the references down in the margin.

Time crawled by with the faint tick of the clock and the rustle of parchment.

'What did Professor Babbling want?' Hermione asked as the lesson came to and end.

'She just wanted to know why I switched to Ancient Runes and to warn me about how fast the class will move.'

'We do go fast, but if you're already ahead in transfiguration, then you'll be able to redistribute your time and keep up.' She beamed. 'Why _did_ you switch, then?'

'I told you. I got a bit tired to being told how I was going to die every lesson.' Harry shrugged. ‘It was kind of funny for a while, but then she started repeating her predictions and the novelty wore off.’

Hermione shook her head and rummaged through her bag. 'It's Arithmancy now. I've got the notes from last year somewhere in here. I thought you might like them.'

Harry accepted the thick stack of parchment with a smile. _I’d prefer your notes from Ancient Runes, really. There’re no long essays for Arithmancy._

He scanned the pages as Professor Vector arranged her students into a precise seating plan that seemed as much about having everyone sat in a symmetrical pattern as it did learning.

‘Recap lesson today.’ Professor Vector fiddled with the brim of her hat and glanced at Harry. ‘At the end, if you struggled with any of the questions on the board, stay afterward and we’ll go over them to make sure you’re all ready to start the new stuff.’

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and jotted down the answers to the first two, then paused and read through the questions. _Oh, that’s a bit disappointing. These are all just basic ones._

Hermione glanced up. 'Are you stuck, Harry? Professor Vector won’t mind if you want some help.'

He rolled his eyes. 'This isn't the sort of Arithmancy I'm particularly interested in. In fact, I’ve a nasty feeling that most of the interesting stuff isn't covered until after OWLs.'

She chewed her lip. 'Advanced Arithmancy is supposed to one of the hardest classes. Are you sure?'

'Of course. This is just the basics. Two-dimensional equations to help people understand what to do. After OWLs, they cover all the complex, interesting stuff. Two-dimensional equations are useless to describe magical patterns when any magic we fold into planes for warding or enchanting will be done in reality, an obviously three-dimensional construct.' Harry cocked his head. ‘Four, technically, since magic’s affected by time, too.’

Hermione blinked. 'I guess that does make sense, but you'll still need to know how to do this if you want to be able to do advanced things like that.'

Harry leant across and filled in the answer to the last question on her parchment. 'See, easy.'

Hermione huffed and scribbled out his answer. Harry returned to his doodling.

He’d just finished adding scales to the head of his Arithmancy basilisk when Professor Vector stood up and added the answers to the board with a flick of her wand.

 _One. Two. Three. Four. Five…_ Harry skimmed through the remaining questions. _Ah, got one wrong, but that’s what you get for copying down the original question incorrectly._

Hermione stuffed her books back into her bag and stalked toward the Great Hall. Harry tailed her at a more comfortable pace, squeezing in between her and Ron midway along the Gryffindor table.

Ron squinted at him with bleary eyes. 'Divination was absolute hell without you, mate,' he mumbled. 'I had to partner with Lavender. She was so _keen_. It was no fun at all.'

Hermione picked at her food in silence, stabbing at pieces of lettuce like they’d done her grave personal injury.

'What's your horoscope, Ron?' Harry asked. ‘Any eternal glory in there?’

'Well, I'm not going to die, so it beats whatever yours would’ve been. Lavender mentioned something to do with fire, cups, and veela, but I think she was talking to Parvati about the Quidditch World Cup.'

_Lavender hates quidditch even more than she loves gossip._

Harry patted Ron on the shoulder. 'You slept through the whole thing, didn't you?’

'It's so warm and stuffy. I don't know how anyone stays awake up there.'

Neville laughed. ‘No need to for anyone to stir themselves, it’s History of Magic next. Even my gran says the subject’s a waste of time while Binns is still teaching it.'

'You know they say his body is actually still in his office from where he died and he just kept teaching as a ghost,' Seamus said.

'Aren't ghosts meant to have a reason to linger?' Ron asked Hermione.

Seamus sniggered. 'Maybe he hadn't finished marking essays.’

'How does he mark our essays?' Dean wondered. 'He can't exactly touch them, can he?'

Ron grinned. 'Maybe that's why he never notices we don't hand anything in.’

A History of Magic was lectured to a class either fast asleep, or working on other subjects.

Harry glanced up from _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ as Binns drifted into the wall. _Ghosts do not make good teachers. Especially not ones that were boring even when they were alive._

‘In this year, there were twelve hundred and forty two skirmishes between goblins and men.’ Binns’ voice echoed from the corridor outside. ‘The most in any single year.’

_Why is this subject compulsory?_

Hermione crossed her arms, then dragged out some parchment and started on the first of their homework essays. Ron slumped onto his arm and started to snore.

‘Oi.’ Harry nudged him on the shoulder.

‘Whassat?’ Ron cracked open an eye.

‘Don’t snore so loud. I’m trying to read and everyone else is trying to sleep.’

‘Why’re you reading?’

‘Because I would very much like to be able to do some of this magic one day and even if we won’t start using this book for a couple more years in class, it’s still cool to read about.’

Ron grunted. ‘Fair enough, mate, but I’m just going to take a nap.’

Harry turned back to _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ and skimmed down the page to where he’d left off. _Famous animagi. Stark warning about getting stuck in your newly transfigured body forever. Animagus theory._ He read the first two lines. _Wow, that’s a lot of things that could potentially go very badly wrong. Maybe this is something for a later date after all._

Harry swapped the book for his copy of _Confronting the Faceless_ and propped it up on the desk with the index pages showing. _There’re a lot of curses._ He paused on one. _Purple cutting curse adaption. Incantation lacero. That’s the one Barty Crouch Junior tried to use on me, that and the Cruciatus Curse._

Harry flicked to the section on Unforgivable Curses. _Cruciatus Curse, best avoided, Imperius Curse, also best avoided, even if it’s the only one you can defend against._ He traced the scar on his forehead, remembering dreams that always ended with a flash of bright green light. _And the Killing Curse…_

'Avada Kedavra,' he murmured.

 _I’ve always known the words to this one._ He recalled attempting to correct a magician at one of Dudley's birthday parties when he’d been much younger, knowing it was wrong, but not quite knowing why. _Strange, that of all the things I could’ve remembered from that night, it was that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	5. Unforgiveables

White clouds drifted across the ceiling of the Great Hall. Harry watched them float from one side to the other as he munched on his toast.

‘When does the tournament start again, Hermione?’ Ron asked.

'It's only been a few days since the beginning of term, Ron.’ Hermione shook her head. ‘You really need to learn some patience.’

'It feels like we've been here for ages.' Ron reached for the nearest rack of toast. ‘ _Ages._ ’

'We were here a bit earlier, but still, it's barely September. Nothing’s happening until October.'

'It's a travesty,' Ron mumbled around a mouthful toast. 'All that hype about the bloody tournament and we have to wait until October to enter.'

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t swear.’

Ron flinched out of elbow range.

'Not much point entering now, mate,' Dean said. 'Got to wait for the other two schools first.'

'Are you going to enter?' Seamus asked.

'Nope,' Dean replied. 'I choose life. I had a research about it when I heard. It's been cancelled for centuries because all the champions kept dying before the end.'

'Doesn't sound like eternal glory to me,' Neville piped up.

Ron chomped his way through the rest of the toast rack and ladled half a plateful of eggs in front of himself.

_Where does all the food even go?_

Seamus grinned. 'Sounds like unexpected death to me. Still, I'm entering. They'll have made it safer or something now, I'm sure. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been allowed to bring it back.'

Ron emerged from behind his mountain of eggs. 'Well, if you see a basilisk, just summon Harry and hide for a bit. That ought to do the trick.'

Dean sniggered. 'That's pretty much the plan. I'll let the seventh years know. They're the ones who'll get chosen anyway. The tournament is supposed to have the best possible student chosen from all the entered names.'

'How does it know?' Neville asked.

Dean shrugged. ‘Some magic, I guess.’

Everyone turned to look at Hermione.

'What?' She huffed and crossed her arms. 'I'm not interested in a silly tournament, we're almost at _OWL_ year now.'

'That's a point,' Harry said. 'I'd wager the champions will all be sixth years really. No exams to worry about that year.'

Ron’s chewing halted. ‘Nah. Nobody’s going to care about exams more than the tournament. I’m definitely entering. Can you imagine Percy's face if I won?'

Harry laughed.

'You'd get another howler from your mum,' Dean said.

'Worth it for eternal glory.' Ron’s eyes turned distant and a little misty. 'Pretty much everyone in Gryffindor is putting their name in, even some of the firsties wanted to.'

'House of the brave,' Seamus said.

'House of the brave and Neville.' Dean prodded Neville on the arm. 'Maybe you'll be champion, Nev. Up for it?'

Neville paled. 'I prefer to leave that stuff to Harry. Giant snakes, swords, dark lords, and lethal tournaments are his area of expertise.'

Ron grunted. 'It's about time it was someone else's turn.’

'Madam Pomfrey might not let you out next time,' Seamus said.

'We've got double Defence with Mad-eye,' Neville said. 'Madam Pomfrey might be seeing all of us if what I've heard is true.'

'Oh?' Harry swivelled round. 'What did you hear?'

_Given the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor has nearly killed me every single year, it’d probably be smart to keep an eye on this one from the beginning._

'Apparently he's been talking about the Unforgivable Curses.’ Neville’s voice shrank to a tiny whisper.

'Bit of an odd thing to teach,' Dean muttered.

 _No argument here._ Harry doubted many would approve. _Still, dark wizards seem more dangerous than most creatures, so maybe it’ll be useful._

'It's probably useful,’ Ron said. 'Dad says those three spells are the ones that are most often used by wizards involved in the dark arts.'

Dean glanced at the clock. 'We're about to find out.’

A nervous gaggle of students huddled behind the desks in Mad-eye Moody's classroom when Harry arrived and took a seat in the middle of the pack.

'Oi! Potter!' Malfoy sneered at him over Hermione’s head. 'How’d you enjoy the World Cup? I heard you collapsed again. Saw a dementor did you?'

'No, Malfoy.' Harry gritted his teeth and swallowed a flare of anger. 'I did see a blond man in black, hooded robes, though. Did your father enjoy his after-party?'

Malfoy recoiled as if struck. 'My father had nothing to do with that. As if it wasn't enough that you pranced around with mudbloods and blood-traitors, you've lowered yourself to slander too.' He turned away to Pansy Parkinson.

_Slander’s all you manage on a day-to-day basis, you slimy cockroach._

'Ignore him, Harry.' Hermione covered his wand arm with her hand.

Ron had his wand in his hand. ‘Ve–‘

Professor Moody stomped in the room and Ron stuffed his wand back into his robes. Purple veins clustered in the sizeable gash through the professor’s nose and his electric-blue, magical eye whirled across the room. It flicked from student to student, peering into the shadows around the edges of the room.

'I am Alastor Moody.' He heaved himself past the desks to the front, his wooden leg clunked on the stone floor with each step. 'I served as an auror in the war against the Dark Lord. I've seen almost all there is of the dark arts and not from a practitioner's perspective.' He snatched a large, bell-shaped jar from under his desk and hauled it onto the front row.

Three large spiders sat inside, hunched into their long, hairy legs. Ron's chair scraped backward and thudded into the bench behind him.

Moody’s mouth twisted into a grimace. 'When it comes to the dark arts, I believe in a practical approach. There's nothing out there that will really prepare you for what's to come. Pictures in a book look nothing like the real horror. When you can taste and smell it all around you. I survived the war, but it cost me an eye and a leg and more to do so. Most didn’t survive at all.' He unscrewed the top of the bell jar with stiff, jerky motions and placed it on the desk. 'There’re only three curses that will get you a lifetime ticket to Azkaban if performed or attempted on another human being. Can anyone name any of them?'

'The Imperius Curse,' Malfoy said with only the slightest hint of a sneer.

'You'd know all about that one, wouldn't you, boy?' Professor Moody barked. 'I'd wager your father told you about it. He used it as an excuse to escape that very same ticket to Azkaban.'

Malfoy’s sneer flushed red and he balled his fists under the desk.

Professor Moody levitated a spider out of the jar and onto the desk. 'Nasty curse, the Imperius. Gives complete control of the victim to the caster. The ministry had terrible trouble with it, because if the caster knows what they’re doing, it's very hard to tell when anyone is under it. It is, however, the only one of three that can be defended against. A strong-willed wizard or witch can fight it off.'

Professor Moody raised a thick, notched wand and thrust it at the spider. 'Imperio.'

The spider careened around the room, scuttling over students and dancing on desks. Laughter burst up from around the room.

Harry grimaced. _Wouldn’t be so funny if it was one of us, would it?_

Ron gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white and watched the spider like it was Aragog himself.

'Another curse?' Moody directed the spider back onto the desk at the front. ‘Anyone?’

'The Cruciatus Curse,' Neville whispered.

'Yes, Mr Longbottom. The torture curse, its incantation is crucio.' Moody's magical eye froze on Neville's face. 'I will not be demonstrating that one in front of the eyes of children.'

He scooped the spider up and poked it back into the jar with the tip of his wand. 'And the last one?'

'The Killing Curse,' Ron murmured.

'Speak up, Weasley,' Moody growled. 'You’re correct. The Killing Curse. It cannot be deflected or magically blocked; its only survivor is Mr Potter.' Professor Moody stared at Harry and his scar as if Voldemort himself was about bubble out of his face, then screwed the jar lid back on.

_Good thing he didn’t tell us the incantation for it. Malfoy and his lackeys would be out practicing it on small animals before the end of the day._

'Blimey,' Ron whispered. 'That was an intense lesson.'

'The lesson has not ended, Mr Weasley.' Professor Moody tucked the jar of spiders back under his desk. 'There is a very lengthy chapter on hex-deflection in the text I recommended for this year, read it before next lesson, either in here or wherever you please.'

He turned and stomped into his office. Harry glimpsed an array looking glasses and mirror-like artefacts before the door slammed shut.

_I wonder what those do?_

'Come on,' Hermione tugged at his arm. 'I want to check on Neville.'

 _Neville?_ Harry glanced around. _He seemed ok, a bit shaken, but ok._

'I've got to go get started on Flitwick's essay,' Harry said. 'I don't want to fall behind.'

Hermione huffed and folded her arms. ‘Fine.’

Harry rolled his eyes and bit his tongue. _As if you don’t go off to the library on your own all the time._

He slipped through Myrtle's cubicle and into the Chamber, vanishing the dust on the stairs until Ginny’s tiny footprints were gone. _Like it never happened._ Harry paused before the ink stain, then vanished that, too. _Good riddance._

'I'm back.' He told the statue in parseltongue. The door grated open and the tongue-bridge rose out of the water. ‘It really does work for any command.’

'Oh, joy,' the portrait snarked. 'Company.'

‘Beggars can’t be choosers,’ Harry replied as he strode into the library. ‘It’s me or Riddle.’

‘You’re probably more sane,' Slytherin said. 'That seemed quick, though. Decided to skip class, then?'

'It's been over a day…'

'How am I supposed to know?! There aren't any windows and the last I knew the year, it was the mid-twentieth century.'

'The century is almost over.’

'Like I care,' Slytherin muttered. 'I'm a painting. I will exist until I am destroyed. Time means little to me now.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. _Godric Gryffindor must’ve been pretty bad if he was the childish one._

'However, for those who have less time and wish for more, I’ve a pleasant surprise.' Salazar gestured at his desk with his wand, dislodging his living, serpent necklace.

Harry spotted a slim golden hourglass dangling off a wooden hook. 'A time-turner…’

'Yes. One of the most valuable things in here.' Slytherin gathered his serpent back onto his shoulders. 'It can't be removed from the Chamber of Secrets, though, I enchanted it.'

'That's a good thing, very farsighted of you.'

_Voldemort would wreak havoc with one of these._

'I did it so Godric would stop stealing it,' Slytherin said.

Harry’s eyebrows slipped up into his hairline.

'It's true, I would’ve never admitted it otherwise.'

'I thought the two of you were supposed to be enemies, not involved in some war of pranks?'

'I didn’t carry out _pranks_. We just had a healthy spirit of competition. I made all the wards around the castle with Rowena, so he transfigured and enchanted all the gargoyles and suits of armour. When I created the Headmaster's office with Helga, he and Rowena snuck off to make some secret room of their own. They were very proud of it. Especially when I couldn't find it.’

'What secret room?'

'They called it the Room of Requirement,' Slytherin said. 'I never found it, but they never found my Chamber of Secrets either.'

'Any idea where it is?' Harry asked. 'Or what it does?'

'Presumably it is whatever it is required to be, but no, I'm not sure exactly where it is or how to find it. I narrowed it down to the seventh floor, but it’d be a waste of time searching for it when you have all this.' Slytherin waved an ostentatious hand around his library.

'True,' Harry said. ‘I have some magic to practice.'

'Not in here you don't,' Slytherin snapped. 'Out into the hall where you won't make a mess of everything. Leave the time-turner there, too. It's limited to about twelve hours, but you can come down after class and use it to repeat the day whenever you like.'

 _That’s a good idea._ Harry strode back across the bridge. _I can get three times as much done as I hoped now._

'Reducto.' He whipped his wand through two sides of a triangle and unleashed the blasting curse at the dead basilisk.

It sputtered out on the poisonous green scales.

_Magically resistant hide._

'Reducto.'

His curse sailed past the snake and struck the pile of bones at the far end of the chamber. They exploded into a cloud of fine dust and settled onto the floor like the ash at the World Cup.

Harry repeated it a few dozen more times, fixing anything that looked like it was meant to be there. _Pretty much got the hang of that one, now._

'Have you finished destroying the finest room in this castle?' Slytherin called.

'I fixed it afterwards.’ Harry wandered back into the library. 'Do you know anything about using transfiguration and conjuration in duels?'

'I am _Salazar Slytherin_.’

'You said Godric Gryffindor was the expert.'

'I'd like to think I know enough to teach a fourteen year old. Sit and listen.'

'I've used it before.’ Harry settled himself in the chair behind the desk. ‘Sort of.’

'You have?' The snake’s head rose up beside Slytherin’s ear. ‘When? How?’

'I conjured a basilisk out of ash and killed a wizard who was attacking me.’ A weight lifted off his chest as the words tumbled out. ‘I didn’t mean to kill him. I just didn’t want to die.’

'Good for you.' Slytherin scratched his chin with the tip of the snake’s tail. 'What was the spell? Serpensortia?'

'I didn't use a spell, I just waved my wand and… made it happen.’

'Show me.'

'You said not to do magic in here.’

'So pick me up off the wall and carry me out there. You can’t levitate me, the frame’s enchanted. It will be nice to have a change of scenery.'

Harry picked the portrait off the wall with a groan and staggered over the bridge.

‘Watch the water! Watch the water!’ Slytherin’s wand spurted silver sparks and the snake buried it’s face in the wizard’s robes. ‘If you drop me!’

Harry propped him at the side of the chamber and mopped sweat of his brow. ‘Why on earth do you weigh so bloody much?’

'Is that my basilisk?' Slytherin asked.

'Yes.'

'She grew a lot.' Slytherin’s smile was a small, faint curve of his lips. 'How did you kill her?'

'With a sword.’

'It had better have not been that ridiculously shiny, goblin-made atrocity Godric used to wave around.’

'It was exactly that sword.'

Slytherin’s wand exploded in silver sparks and a furious torrent of parseltongue curses spewed from the founder’s lips. 'Show me this conjured serpent, then.'

'I managed to repeat it with fire,' Harry said. 'I don't know how well water will work.'

'Just try, it shouldn't really matter.'

He pictured the basilisk coalescing from the pool just as it had struck from the cloud of ash, then slashed his wand forward away from himself.

A vast, liquid basilisk maw swept from the pool and crashed against the wall. Spray spattered Harry’s robes and face.

'Well now,' Slytherin said. ‘That's a very impressive piece of silent battle-conjuration, especially for someone your age. If you hadn't used a serpent, I daresay Godric himself might’ve deigned to teach you. Not that you’d have learnt anything from that idiot.'

'Er, thanks,' Harry replied.

'Try again. This time don't imagine a striking snake, but one that hovers in the air over the pool.'

Harry did so. They watched as the water coiled into the form of the king of serpents. A deep, throbbing ache seeped into Harry’s body as the vast liquid serpent twisted above the pool. He gritted his teeth, then released the spell before his legs gave out. The water splashed back into the pool.

'I can imagine how tiring that must have been.' Slytherin waved his wand at the pool. 'It looks powerful, but draining. That's not a spell you should be using until you've got a lot better at directing your magic.'

'I have no idea how to do that,' Harry said.

Slytherin shook his head and muttered something in parseltongue under his breath. 'To conjure and animate something so big requires a great deal of magic. Even in my prime, I’d be capable of wielding it for no more than a few minutes and you’re pouring magic all over the place. Focus only on the objective of your spell when you cast it.'

Harry struggled to stand.

'Not now. There’re some rituals you can undertake to strengthen both your body and magic.' He eyed Harry like a snake would a mouse, and the serpent around his neck stared with him. 'I'd recommend them. They did Tom Riddle a world of good back when he was scrawny little thing like you.'

'I'm not doing anything that wizard did.’

'You're going to use the time-turner aren't you?' Slytherin asked.

Harry scowled. 'Yes.'

'Then you're following in his footsteps already. That time-turner is what made him such a brilliant student. Of course, you're rather more sane than he turned out to be. You don't have delusions of vengeance against muggles or an over-inflated sense of self-worth, do you?'

'Not that I am aware of,' Harry retorted.

'Good.' Slytherin nodded and the snake on his shoulders bobbed it head, too. 'Use the time-turner, do the rituals, outstrip him, then redeem the title of Heir of Slytherin if you dislike the connotations he gave it so much.'

Harry carried the portrait back to its resting place. 'I'm not doing the rituals.’

'Suit yourself. It’ll make carrying my picture a lot easier if you did. If you happen to change your mind, you'll find the ritual books you're looking for in the corner of the library up there.' The painting pointed to a high spot just behind where the ladder rested.

'I'm not doing them.’

'I'm not going to force you,' Slytherin promised. 'You're my heir, the last reputable member of my family as far as I know. I'll help you as much as you allow me, especially since you saved me from the insane ramblings of my poor basilisk.'

'I'm not sure I want to ask.’

'She had nightmares,' Slytherin replied. 'I think the magic I was used to create her, which made her loyal to me, punished her for what she did, even if she believed it was what I wanted. I'm glad you put her out of her misery. She’s free of Tom Riddle and I no longer have to listen to her tortured raving.'

'Where did she go?' Harry asked. 'I just walked in here and found the study. It's far too tidy to have housed a seventy foot serpent.'

'She slept underneath. If you intended to wake her, any parseltongue command would’ve brought her forth. You wanted to open the door, so you came here. A good thing, since you probably wouldn't have been able to get out of her resting place had you fallen down there.'

Harry threw a glance around the study and measured the depth of the ache in his limbs. _I’d like to stay and have a go at the shielding charm, but I don’t think I’ve much left in me._

'I'm going to head back to Gryffindor Tower,' he said.

Slytherin exploded into another string of parseltongue, so Harry left him to it and headed back to the common room.

'Where’ve you been?' Hermione demanded. 'I looked in the library and asked around, but nobody’s seen you since you left after class.'

Harry shrugged. 'It's easier to work out of sight where I won't be disturbed.'

'Did you finish the essay? I can look over it for you.'

'It's not quite done yet,' he said. 'I want to check a couple of things, maybe squeeze in an extra bit to give Flitwick a good impression at the start of the year.'

'Good idea.' Hermione beamed, then her face fell. 'Ron's upstairs with Seamus and Dean. Neville said he was fine, since you were so concerned earlier, but I think the Unforgivables really bother him. He’s shut himself inside his bed hangings and isn’t talking to anyone.'

_Maybe he knows someone who got hit with one of them. Someone other than me, that is._

'The Unforgivable Curses bother everyone except the worst kind of wizards, Hermione,’ he said. ‘What would you have to be to not be bothered by curses to control, torture, and kill?'

'I think they bother Neville more than most.’ Hermione’s brown eyes bored into his. ‘And I think you know that, even though it doesn’t seem to bother you.’

‘What am I meant to do?’ Harry asked. ‘I can’t undo whatever it was that happened.’

Her lips thinned into a white line. ‘No, but you should be upset that something like that happened to one of your friends.’

‘Like how everyone’s so upset it happened to me?’ Harry raised an eyebrow at her. ‘They _celebrate_ my parents’ deaths every year, Hermione. You all do.’

‘That’s–‘

‘Different? How?’ He stepped her past her and headed upstairs. ‘Because you all got something good out of it, it’s all ok? The greater good?’

Hermione flinched. ‘No… but you’re not Neville, you’re Harry.’

He left her behind. _You don’t know Harry. None of you do. Even Neville had his grandmother before coming to Hogwarts. I only had myself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	6. The Butterfly Effect

Light, warm rain turned heavy and cold as October crept by. It drummed on the Forbidden Forest's canopy as it faded orange, brown, and red, pattering through autumn morning mist into the Black.

 _If it weren’t so miserable, it’d still feel like September._ Harry dragged his gaze away from the window and back into the Great Hall.

‘Still not going to enter, Harry?’ Seamus asked.

‘My desire for eternal glory died permanently at about age eleven.’ He stretched up to pat the top of Hermione’s research bundle. ‘There’s a really big pile of old newspapers that says yours probably isn’t going to make it through the tournament.’

‘Nah, mate. They’ll definitely have made it more safe this time.’

‘Have you been at some other school the last few years?’ Harry quipped. ‘A troll, a cerberus, a werewolf, a baby dragon, _a basilisk_...’

‘And a vampire.’ Ron poked his head up over a mountain of eggs and bacon. ‘Can’t forget Snape.’

Dean nodded. ‘Worst of the lot.’

_You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d seen the basilisk._

'The other schools are coming today,' Seamus crowed. ‘Nearly time!’

Harry sighed and returned to _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ , pausing raising his book over Katie Bell's best attempts to spill pumpkin juice over everything. Harry vanished the trail of juice edging toward his lap, then tucked his wand back up his sleeve.

Katie flushed. ‘Thanks Harry.’

‘No worries.’

She leant across. ‘Why’re you reading OWL books?’

‘Someone challenged me to make my own spell.’ Harry caught Hermione’s eye as she looked up. ‘Transfiguration. Supposedly, I’ve a bit of a gift that I’ve been wasting.’

‘What sort of spell?’

He lowered his book. ‘Something based on the bird conjuring spell. Butterflies.’

‘How girly of you.’

‘Sporty tom-boy said what?’

Katie laughed. ‘Can’t dispute that.’

 _Slytherin did._ Harry stifled a wince at the recollection of the portrait’s apoplexy. _Even knowing a swarm of intent-directed butterflies makes an almost impervious shield to the Killing Curse, Cruciatus Curse or any dark curses that cause no physical damage, he was still upset it wasn’t snakes._

Hermione crossed her arms. ‘Show us, then.’

‘Please,’ Katie muttered.

'Papilionis.' Harry drew a narrow vee in the air with the tip of his wand.

A single, grey, rather lopsided butterfly lurched in a spiral around his head.

_Not quite what I was hoping for. Not even the right colour._

The tragic creature corkscrewed across the table, just avoided Ron's fork and collapsed in front of Hermione. She who poked it with her wand and the butterfly burst into a wisp of black smoke.

Harry frowned and scratched his head. _Something isn’t quite right._

Hermione shot him a smug look.

Harry ignored her. _She’s just mad because I won’t tell her where I spend my time. And that I don’t need her help all the time anymore._

'Papilionis.' He forced more magic into the spell.

Two black butterflies darted across the table into Katie's face. She shrieked and batted them away.

 _They were a little better formed._ Harry watched Katie set his conjurations alight. _The wings were the right shape and they were the right colour._

‘Only really special wizards make their own spells before they take their OWLs, Harry.’ Hermione offered him a smile half between encouraging and satisfied. ‘Even modifying them is meant to be really tricky.’

 _Your half-sincere condescension is really starting to annoy me._ Harry took a deep breath. _At least when the champions are chosen for this tournament Hermione can have her I told you so moment and stop being so pissy with everyone._

'Aren't Beauxbaton and Durmstrang's students meant to be arriving today,' Alicia asked.

‘I think so,' Angelina said. ‘I don't know how they're arriving, though.'

Startled exclamations burst from near the window.

'What’s that?' Dean peered past Harry’s shoulder.

'It's a bird,' someone said.

'No, it's a plane,' a student cried.

A few sniggers echoed round the hall and more than a few blank looks rose from those raised in the magical world.

'It's Beauxbatons' flying carriage,' a seventh year Ravenclaw announced in a very Hermione-ish manner. 'It's pulled by Abraxan horses.'

The coach was a pale, pastel blue and covered in ornate gold decoration. Huge shining wheels spun in the wind. The entire affair, both winged horses and carriage, disappeared behind the central tower.

Harry returned to his book. _At least it means everyone will be talking about something slightly different._

Dumbledore and the majority of the Hogwarts staff strode down the hall, trailed by what appeared to be the remainder of the student body.

'Something's happening to the lake,' a first year squeaked.

Half the students thundered from one side of the room to the other.

'It's bubbling,' someone shouted.

'There's a ship!'

'It must be Durmstrang,' the same seventh year Ravenclaw announced.

'Do they know about the giant squid?' a girl asked.

Harry bit back a laugh. _That could be a nasty surprise._

'I heard Durmstrang is in the Czech Republic,' Ron said.

'The Czech Republic is a landlocked country, Ron,' Hermione replied. 'Travelling by ship would be very impractical.'

'Me mam said something about Scandinavia,' Seamus added.

'If everyone could find a seat on their house tables.' Dumbledore held his wand against his throat to magnify his voice over the hubbub. 'Let's give a good impression to our guests, shall we.'

Everyone scrambled back to the tables and Harry found himself squished between Katie and a sixth year boy. Harry tucked his elbows in as far as possible and tried not to think about the warmth of the two of them, but each time he made some space to breath, they seemed to seep into it.

 _It’s not going to be for long._ He took several deep breaths and pictured the circle of dark ink on white parchment. _They’re just close to you. They won’t bite._

Katie craned her neck round Harry, stretching so far she was all but lying over his lap. He leant as far back as he could without falling off the bench.

She giggled. 'Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean to be so forward.'

He dragged as much of a smile as he could manage onto his face. Katie’s brow creased. Harry plastered a new smile on top of the first. A bright, easy, spread of teeth that welled up from the back of his mind like water from a spring.

Her cheeks blossomed pink. ‘At least it’s the sporty tom-boy, lying all over you. If I were Lavender you’d smell like apple blossom or something equally girly for the rest of the day.’

‘I suppose it could be worse.’

‘It made you smile.’ She squirmed. ‘It’s a nice smile. Never seen you smile like that before.’

 _Because it’s not my smile._ A cold fist closed round Harry’s spine and the expression slipped off his lips. The rest of the face he’d half-recalled it from seeped from his memory. High cheekbones, smooth, combed hair, and mahogany eyes with just a hint of hunger. _It’s Riddle’s smile. Bloody hell. What was I thinking?!_

The Durmstrang students strode into the Great Hall draped in fur-cloaks and with knee-high leather boots. Their headmaster, a silver-haired, sour-faced man with a short, pointed goatee came last, his arm draped about the broad shoulders of his final student.

'That's Viktor Krum,' Ron hissed.

A murmur ripped through the hall. The Bulgarian seeker’s eyes remained fixed on Dumbledore.

'Igor.' Dumbledore spread his arms

‘Dumbledore.’ Durmstrang’s headmaster responded with a sharp, curt nod. ‘Madame Maxime is on her way. She stopped to give more precise instructions to your gamekeeper about her Abraxans.'

Dumbledore let his arms drop and as the Durmstrang students followed Krum to the Slytherin table.

Whispers filled the hall.

Harry returned to the pages of his transfiguration book. _Maybe_ _the reason it’s not working is something to do with the fact I’m conjuring out of nothing instead of using an elemental medium like I did for the basilisk._

Silence descended over the Great Hall.

‘That girl is not normal,' Katie muttered.

A group of French witches strolled past glassy-eyed Hogwarts students. Harry caught a glimpse of familiar platinum hair at the very end of the Ravenclaw table as the witches found some space. A two person gap opened around the blonde witch and she stared up at the ceiling as if nothing below it interested her in the slightest.

A large bowl of fish stew appeared on the table. Harry jerked his book up just in time to avoid decorating its spine with the largest prawns he’d ever seen. _They look quite tasty, actually._ He tried to free his arms, but Katie and the sixth year boy had monopolised all the space. _I guess I’ll wait, then._

Harry turned to page and tuned out the clatter of cutlery, plates, and goblets rose up around him. Katie chattered away about quidditch on his right with Angelina and Alicia. He poked her goblet of pumpkin juice out of harm’s way with the corner of his book.

The table turned quiet and still.

'Do you still want the bouillabaisse?' A soft, French-accented voice drifted over his shoulder.

Harry caught a flash of platinum hair out the corner of his eye. _Presumably Bouillabaisse is the thing with the giant prawns._

'All yours.' He leant out the way of Katie, who’d two hands on the dish.

She swung the bowl past Harry's nose and into a pair of small, fair-skinned hands.

‘Bizarre,’ the soft voice murmured. 'Merci.’ Quiet footsteps padded away.

Harry glanced up and met Katie's stare. 'What?'

'You're not acting like all those idiots.' She gestured at the pair of fifth boys across from them who were staring after the French girl.

Harry blinked. ‘Am I meant to be?’

Katie beamed. ‘It’s a good thing, don’t worry.’

‘If you say so.' He drew raised his wand. ‘Papilionis.’

A swarm of imperfect butterflies erupted from his wand tip and scattered across the table. Alicia shrieked and Ron hunched over his lunch like a vulture over a carcass.

'Sorry.' Harry banished them into black smoke. 'I wasn't expecting so many.'

'No more insects,' Katie growled.

‘Fair enough.’

 _I’ll have to ask Slytherin why it’s not working._ He grimaced. _Another argument about butterflies beckons._

'Now our guests have arrived, it is time we come to the main attraction of the year.' Professor Dumbledore approached the lectern at the head of the hall and the food vanished. 'It is time for the Triwizard Tournament to begin. However, first we must cover some of the rules.'

An ancient, rough-hewn goblet appeared at the dais' edge. Blue flames danced above the cup and a eldritch glow bled from it into the air. The whole hall stared. Harry watched the azure fire flicker in Ron’s eyes.

'First of all, it should be made very clear that nobody below the age of seventeen is allowed to enter.' Dumbledore paused as a loud groan rippled round the hall. ‘To ensure no mishaps occur, I have taken the liberty of drawing an age line around the goblet. Aside from that, the tournament will proceed as it did before it was cancelled. Anyone wishing to be chosen as champion may enter their name into the goblet over the next two days and the names of the champions will be announced by it soon afterward.'

The entire table scrambled for parchment, ink, and quills as if the first few to enter might have some advantage. Ron launched himself into an expletive-punctuated tirade Mrs Weasley herself would've been proud of.

 _So loud._ Harry pulled his book back out of the way. _It might be best if I went to the chamber_.

Slytherin’s portrait stared up at Harry from where he'd leant it against one of the columns as Harry explained his problem. 'They're such feminine insects. Can't you use dragonflies, or bats, or anything more respectable?'

'Butterflies are simple and their wings cover a lot of area,' Harry said. ‘Now are you going to help or sulk?'

The portrait crossed its arms. 'Salazar Slytherin does _not_ sulk.'

_Of course he doesn't._

'What are you visualising?' Salazar asked.

'Butterflies, swirling around me in a sort of demi-sphere.'

'How are you picturing them forming?'

'I wasn't really,' Harry replied. 'It never mattered for the bird-conjuring spell.'

'But I'd wager you only ever conjured one bird. A single bird you can probably get away with, but for lots, you have to focus on them being created from the air beforehand. It's harder to conjure from such an insubstantial thing.'

Harry imagined the butterflies curling together as if from smoke. ‘Papilionis.’

A cloud of wings and legs engulfed him, tickling every inch of skin.

'That's pretty good,' Salazar said. 'Practice directing them as a shield and you could use them to deflect some types of curses as you wanted, or even transfigure them and use them as weapons.'

_Transfiguring them sounds like a good idea._

'You've spent a lot of time down here over the last month.’ Salazar’s brows drew together. 'And that's excluding the use of the time-turner.'

'My friends are all obsessed with the Triwizard Tournament.' Harry shrugged. 'I don't particularly enjoy talking about it constantly and I _do_ need to get much better.'

'Don't forget your friends. You'll need them, especially with your record of ending up entangled in anything remotely dangerous.'

'I haven't forgotten them, but it's hard to be with them for all my free time when most of them don't do anything I find interesting. The only one who does share interests resents having any real competition.'

'Choose better friends, then,' Salazar said.

'There are no better friends.’

Salazar shrugged, bouncing his snake on his shoulders. It let out an irritated hiss. 'If you say so,' he said

'I do.’

'Papilionis.' Harry conjured a cloud of black butterflies, direct the swarm to swirl around him fast enough he could see through the blur of wings. He transfigured one of the butterflies into a gleaming, steel spike and with a flick of his wand, sent it flying out of the shield.

It hissed across the chamber and thunked into the stone wall a few inches above the Slytherin's picture.

'Be careful,' Salazar exploded. 'I do _not_ need one of those impaled through my canvas. Sometimes, you're worse than Godric.'

Harry attempted it several more times using sponge balls. Eventually, he got the hang of directing his projectiles where he wanted them.

'My Chamber of Secrets looks like a childrens' playground.' Salazar griped.

Harry gave the giant corpse of the basilisk a pointed look. ‘I suspect it wouldn’t meet health and safety requirements.’ He vanished the mess he had made.

'It's a surprisingly useful spell,' Salazar said. 'Despite the ridiculous butterflies.'

 _Hermione would throw a tantrum if she saw it was working already._ Harry heaved the portrait back over the bridge and replaced it above the entrance, then Harry slipped the time-turner onto its hook on the desk.

'Godric used to steal that and move my things around,' Salazar murmured. 'He thought it was hilarious, until Rowena found out and yelled at him for messing with time over something so petty.'

'You miss them.’

'I'd miss anyone after half a millennium with no company but a mad serpent and a delusional child. Even Godric's childish japes, Helga's mothering, or Rowena's lectures.' Slytherin stared into the floor. 'I think when you’ve redeemed the title of Heir of Slytherin and no longer need my advice, I'd quite like to be moved somewhere else in the castle. Maybe you'll find a portrait of my old friends in the Room of Requirement.'

'I'll search for it,' Harry promised.

'You should go back to your tower and see your friends. Heir of Slytherin or not, you'll need them.'

Harry nodded and headed back up the stairs.

A cluster of fourth years slumped in the sofas round the fire.

'It's rather empty in here.’ Harry crossed to join them. ‘Where’s everyone else?’

Ron's face twisted into a scowl. ‘Still by the goblet in the hall. The younger years are in lessons.’

'Not happy about the age rules, I take it.'

'Bloody pissed off is more like it.’

Hermione tutted.

'Don't take it too hard,' Harry said.

'It was my _chance_ , Harry.' Ron sighed. 'You wouldn't understand, you've always been noticed and famous and had everything I want. I was going to be noticed, too. I wouldn't just be another Weasley, or Harry Potter's friend, or something like that. I don't want the whole limelight or anything, just a glimmer for myself.'

'Honestly, Ron, I'd happily give you the whole thing.'

'It's easy to say that from where you're standing, mate,' Dean said. 'I'm just another muggle-born student that half the wizarding world doesn't think should be here. You've been a hero from birth.'

'I didn't want to be.'

'We know. You never go chasing things like this or even use your fame at all,' Seamus replied. 'It's just a little annoying to be in your shadow sometimes.'

'Well we'll be in the shadow of the Hogwarts champion together,' Harry said. 'I've no desire to enter my name and I couldn't anyway.'

'Fred and George tried to cheat past the age line earlier,' Hermione announced. 'It didn't work, but I've seen loads of younger students trying everything they can to get in.'

Dean scoffed. 'I'd take my hat off to anyone who manages to slip past an age line created by Dumbledore.'

_I’ve no idea how the ward works, but I doubt anyone’s going to get past it._

Maybe next time,' Harry said. ‘You'd have a better shot at winning then.'

'It was held every five years back when it was running,' Seamus said.

‘This was our only shot,’ Dean added.

'I'm going upstairs.' Ron shoved himself out of his chair and slouched off.

Seamus and Dean shared a glance, then trailed after him.

'Did you try and put your name in?' Hermione asked.

'No,' Harry said. 'I've been trying to perfect my butterfly summoning spell.'

'That's really advanced transfiguration, Harry.' Hermione patted him on the arm. 'You shouldn't be trying it for another year at leas, really. I’m only starting to read about it now and probably won’t be able to do it until Christmas. I'm really impressed you managed to conjure anything at all.'

Harry tried to muster a smile, but only managed to steal Riddle's bright, insincere cheer. 'Thanks, Hermione.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	7. The Flower of the Heart

High, refined cheekbones, slender, elegant brows, bright, clear, blue eyes and full lips framed by flowing, silver hair stared out of the mirror.

 _Perfect._ Fleur pushed the small mirror over with the tip of her finger. _As always._

Madame Maxime’s silhouette loomed on the other side of the Venetian blind. Fleur pushed it up and saw her caught in conversation with Hogwarts' gamekeeper. Fleur recognised the look on the huge man's face all too well.

Fleur let the blind fall and slipped out of her room. She drew her magic into herself as far as she could. _Madame Maxime will be furious if I get caught by a bunch of boys._ Fleur scowled and stepped down into the long grass. _And it will validate the rumours those harpies like to spread._

A chill soaked into her shoes and cloak. Fine, cold mist hovered in the air, coating her in water droplets.

‘Merde.’ Fleur shivered and stared up at Hogwarts’ grey battlements. ‘Does this awful place _never_ see any sun?’

_I suppose they need the walls to be so thick and ugly just to keep out the cold and the rain._

She strode into the Great Hall. A dusk sky twinkled over her head and a faint white circle of magic glowed around a the goblet’s stand. Its rippling blue flames threw faint shadows across the flagstones. Fleur put one foot through the age line.

It flared bright as a full moon, then settled back to a dull glow.

She stepped all the way through and fished a piece of parchment from her pocket.

 _Fleur Delacour._ She read the parchment's slanting, delicate script read in the blue light of the goblet, then dropped it into the flames. They turned red, then faded back to azure. _Accepted. As always._

She spun on her heel.

A shadow passed the entrance of the hall.

‘Merde,’ Fleur whispered.

_If it’s Madame Maxime, I’m in trouble._

A dark, messy-haired Hogwarts student made his way along the wall to her right.

 _Gabrielle’s age, but he’ll probably be half-handsome when he’s older._ Fleur wrinkled her nose at his round glasses. _If an English boy can learn some style, that is._

The boy followed the edge of the wall, his head cocked. The goblet’s flames illuminated his face as he drew neat, flashing off his glasses. She glimpsed a pair of sharp, emerald eyes.

 _Merde. He saw me._ Fleur held her breath. _Now he’ll come bother me._

One of his eyebrows quirked, then he carried on.

 _That’s the same boy that ignored me before. Interesting._ She allowed her magic free, letting her allure swell to its usual level, and stomped her foot. _Now we’ll see if notices me._

The young wizard paused a few steps from the end of the hall and shot her a second glance. 'Tempus.' Silver numbers ghosted from the end of his wand, then he vanished into the corridors beyond the hall.

 _Good thing none of the other girls saw that._ Fleur pursed her lips. _I wonder if he’ll be able to resist my magic if I actually try?_

She stole back out into the drizzle and down the uneven, steep, slippery steps.

'Where’ve you been, Fleur?' Caroline's chubby face stretch into a sickly smile as the small, round girl skulked from the shadows at the of the corridor.

‘Yeah, _Fleur_.’ Emilie’s gangly figure crept out from behind Caroline. 'Been sneaking up to Hogwarts to bewitch little boys again, have you?'

'I don't _bewitch_ anyone,' Fleur said. 'If you're both still upset that your boyfriends are so weak-minded they cannot resist my magic then take it up with them, or, better still, ask yourselves why they might be looking at other girls when they have _you_.'

 _We’re not best friends anymore. You ran off chasing boys and left me behind._ Fleur hid a small smile. _And now your boys leave you to chase me. Fair’s fair._

'Our boyfriends were fine until you used your Veela magic to enchant them and lure them away,' Emilie hissed. 'At least we know those rumours about you really are true. Why else would you be sneaking out in the middle of the night?'

'It's barely early evening,' Fleur snapped. 'Your ability to tell the time is as poor as your duelling, Emilie. Would you like me to remind you which of us is the school duelling champion?'

‘Madame would bar you from competing.’ Caroline sniffed. 'You wouldn't _dare_.'

'It doesn't matter,' Emilie sang. 'She's probably too tired to do anything after her _excursion._ How many was it, Fleur? Did you lure enough in to satiate yourself?'

‘Bold words from the needy little girl who threw herself at any boy she could see. The whole school knows you lost your virginity to a middle-aged janitor in a bathroom stall. No wonder you can’t keep a boyfriend long enough to stop you coming back to irritate me.’

Emilie balled her fists. ‘ _You_ started that rumour and pinned what _you_ were doing on _me_.’

‘Even Caroline doesn’t believe that,’ Fleur said. ‘And she’s gullible enough to believe every time a boy says _I love you_ before he starts trying to take off her clothes.’

‘Oh no, you’re not turning this one around,' Caroline crowed. ‘Madame Maxime _forbade_ us from going out after curfew.

‘I hope you got enough to keep you sated for a while, because she’s not going to let you slip out again.’ Emilie’s lip curled. ‘Or maybe the other rumours are true? Maybe for all her unnatural charm, poor little Fleur’s never been so much as kissed.'

'As if I care what you or your rumours say.’ Fleur stuck her nose in the air and stared at a point just over Caroline’s head. 'You’re both just _less_ than me. Less attractive. Less powerful. Less important. Go ahead and try to satisfy your empty lives by whispering about me, it won’t redeem you and it won’t _work_.'

Caroline gasped. Emilie reached for her wand.

Fleur caught her wrist. 'Why would you even try? Charms, duelling, enchanting… I’m better than you at every aspect of magic. We’re not children anymore, Emilie. You can't flaunt your first boyfriends and early kisses in my face and expect me to care. Go back to your room and take Caroline with you before I decide to _actually_ take someone you care about away.'

They scurried away like frightened mice.

Fleur caught sight of her reflection in the window. _Merde. Not so perfect now._ She took several deep breaths and watched her reflection’s eyes shrink, shifting from black to light blue. Feathers slid back into her skin all down her spine. _I shouldn’t let those two get to me. I wasted enough tears on them years ago. Now, I’ve left them behind._

‘I should write to Gabby and make sure she’s ok,’Fleur murmured as she slipped back into her room. ‘She will be lonely now I’ve left and I promised I’d write, but I’ll need to borrow a school owl, if I can.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	8. I Am Number Four

Storm clouds brewed on the ceiling of the Great Hall. Lightning flashed above Harry’s corner of Gryffindor Table; its thunder rippled out across the whole hall like waves across a dark sea.

He propped his book up between Ron and his rack of toast, munching bites between turning the pages. _It’s going to be a good day._

The Goblet of Fire burnt with good cheer at the far end of the hall. The blue flames flickered in the corner of Harry’s eye, reflected on the inside of his glasses.

'Ten sickles says it's Angelina,' Seamus muttered.

Dean spared a Hermione a wary look. 'You're on. It’ll be Diggory or that stuck-up Ravenclaw for sure.'

Ron swallowed a huge mouthful of bacon. 'He won't pay you. Seamus still owes me for the house-elf bet.'

'Don't remind me.’ Dean shuddered. 'And keep it down, Hermione's not remembered to try foist badges onto us today yet. Let's try and make it last?'

Harry looked up from his book. ‘Badges?’

'Yeah.' Seamus glowered. 'It's your damn fault. That rubbish you fed her about house-elves at Hogwarts set her off in search of the kitchens and now she's gone and started an enslaved magical people's rights group.'

'I just wanted to stop her attempts to force feed me.'

'Well it worked, but we're all paying a high price for it,' Dean said.

Harry shrugged. ‘She hasn't tried to sell me one.'

'You haven't exactly been around, mate,' Ron groused. 'We're living dangerously, we are.'

'Yeah, any more refusals and she'll realise we don't agree with her,' Dean said.

Seamus grinned. 'Or worse, we might end up like Neville.'

Harry raised an eyebrow.

'Hermione's sold him about ten badges already, but he keeps forgetting them. She thinks he's doing it on purpose and has taken to harassing him about wearing them every time she sees him.'

'Better him than us,' Dean said. 'Better him than us.'

'Too true.' Ron glanced down the table to where Hermione’s bushy hair stuck out of her textbook. 'She went mental on Lavender when she refused to wear one because it didn't go with her lip gloss.'

Seamus laughed. 'Best refusal yet. Hermione was absolutely livid that lip gloss could be considered of equal importance to her anti-slavery movement.'

'Someone needs to tell her about the differences between keeping house-elves and having slaves,' Ron grumbled. 'It's growing well beyond a joke.'

They all turned to look at Harry.

'I don't actually know myself,’ he said. ‘Have you tried leaving books about it lying around near her? She'll see them, read them, then maybe stop. Once she's learnt a bit more, she'll realise she's wrong and move on. Hermione hates being wrong, she’ll give it up.'

'That's a good idea, mate,' Seamus said. 'Cunning. It's worth the trip to the library too.'

Ron threw a long look at the goblet. 'Do you reckon they'll announce the champions today?'

'Dumbledore said he would,' Dean replied.

Harry buried his nose in Salazar’s crumbling, ancient charms book, flicking through pages of illegible, smeared text until he found a readable section. _The water conjuring charm. Probably useful._

He pinched Ron's goblet and pointed his wand tip into it. ‘Aguamenti.’

A dribble of water trickled into the bottom of the goblet.

 _Simple enough. Just needs practice._ Harry turned the next clump of bile-plastered pages until he found another legible paragraph. _The shield charm is a heavily intent based ward, adapted from basic hex deflection into a more practical defense. As such it can only be penetrated by spells cast with stronger intent and focus. The ultimate example of which is the Killing Curse that has such a potent level of intent it cannot be shielded against._

‘A shame there’s not much of this book left.’ He squinted at the tattered cover, but found no sign of either title or author. ‘It’s quite good.’

He pored over the few legible pages, munching on toast, and practicing the wand motions for the stunning spell.

An strange prickle crawled down the nape of his neck and along his spine. Harry focused on the book, but the sensation persisted. He glanced up.

Every pair of eyes in the Great Hall stared back..

The bottom dropped out of his stomach. _I missed something important._ His heart sank. _Which usually means something has gone unexpectedly, horribly wrong._

'Good book, Harry?' Professor Dumbledore called from beside the goblet.

He nodded. A titter of laughter rippled round the room. Harry's gut knotted itself into a tangle. _What the hell is happening?_

Dumbledore gestured toward the small door at the end of the hall. 'Would you mind joining the others, Harry?'

 _I suppose it can’t be worse than being stared at in here._ Harry rose from his seat.

His friends’ faces stared up all along the table, twisted into grimaces and scowls. Pinched lips, dark glares, and muttered insults followed him down the hall. Dumbledore crumpled a burnt-edged piece of parchment in his fingers.

 _Oh._ Harry froze mid-step. His blood turned to ice. _Oh, this is not seriously happening, is it?_ He turned Dumbledore, but the headmaster's stern expression stopped him in his tracks. _I didn't even want to watch the tournament, let alone take part in the bloody thing._

Harry fixed the goblet with a cold glare and stalked into the antechamber. Cedric Diggory and a silver-haired French girl leant against the wall within. Victor Krum paced the floor like a caged tiger.

'What is it, Harry?' Diggory asked. 'Do they want us to go back?'

Harry blinked. _What the hell am I here for if he's the champion?_ He managed a hint of a smile. _Seamus owes Dean ten sickles._

'This is unprecedented,' a loud voice boomed. Ludo Bagman stomped into the room. 'A fourth champion.'

'He is going to compete?' The silver-haired girl turned her nose up. ‘ _Vraiment_?’

'He has to.' Mr Crouch's dry, tired voice echoed from the corner of the room. 'Entering your name in the goblet represents the creation of a magically binding contract.'

 _Of course it does._ Harry clenched his jaw and seethed. _Every year. Every single year. I shouldn't even be surprised._

He sighed. 'What if you didn't put your name in and happened to find yourself here anyway?'

'Are you suggesting that you did not enter your name, Mr Potter?' Dumbledore swept into the centre of the room, trailed by a Professor Mcgonagall, Professor Moody, and Snape.

'I wasn't suggesting it, sir. I can say with complete certainty that I didn't consciously do so, nor, did I get another student to do it.'

'He's lying,' the French girl said. 'How else did his name come out?' She tossed her hair and raised her chin.

'It does seem unlikely, Harry,' Dumbledore said.

Harry shrugged. _Whatever, then. I’m stuck in the bloody thing either way._

'We would like an extra champion,' Beauxbatons’ enormous headmistress demanded. 'Hogwarts cannot have two when we only have one.'

'Hogwarts has only one champion,' Harry said. 'Diggory put his name in and was chosen. He’s the representative of the school.'

Diggory frowned.

'You have to compete,' Mr Crouch said. ‘Else you’ll lose your magic.'

'I know.' Harry scowled. 'I don't have to belong to a school, though. I'll turn up and take part, but I won't be earning any extra points for Hogwarts when I never even wanted to compete in the first place.'

'If that is what you wish, Harry.' The twinkle faded from Professor Dumbledore’s eyes.

_It’s your fault, you old coot! Your age line was meant to stop stuff like this. But just like last year and both years before, I’m the one who gets stuck in the middle of all your mess!_

'Is that acceptable?' Mr Crouch asked the other champions.

'It's not like he will earn any points anyway,' the French witch said.

Krum and Cedric nodded.

'Then it's settled,' Bagman cried. 'We'll come and fetch you before the wand-weighing ceremony at the start of the tournament.'

The other champions filed out past Harry. Beauxbatons’ champion glared at him through her veil of silver hair.

_I don't think she likes me._

'Stay here please, Harry,' Dumbledore said.

Professor Mcgonagall thrust the door shut. Snape sneered. Professor Moody’s magical eye fixed itself on a point right between Harry’s ears.

'I didn't expect this from you, my boy.' Professor Dumbledore shook his head. 'I won't pretend to understand why you entered, but you have to take part now and you're at a great disadvantage. The tasks were designed for sixth and seventh year students, not fourth years.'

'I didn't enter my name.’

'I see,' Dumbledore murmured.

 _Ridiculous._ Harry choked down a cold ball or fury. _What do I have to do for people to trust me? Whomever put my name in this stupid tournament is going to regret it._

He turned and wrenched the door open, stalking round the corner toward the common room. Whispers and barbed comments dogged him, Slytherin and Hufflepuff students wore their disdain on their sleeves.

_At least my friends will believe me once I tell them._

Stark silence fell over the Gryffindor Common Room.

'I can't believe you, Harry.' Ron launched himself out of his seat. 'You said you wouldn't put your name in! You promised you'd be watching alongside us!'

Hot, angry eyes stared from all parts of the room.

'You could’ve at least told us how you managed it so we'd have a chance as well,' Seamus spat. 'Your word doesn't mean much does it.'

They turned away when he opened his mouth to speak. Hermione looked away and folded her arms.

The little point of ice in Harry’s chest tightened like a vice. _Why won't they listen?_

He turned to the trio of chasers. 'You girls believe me, right?'

'You told us you weren't going to enter,' Angelina snapped. 'But your name came out, didn't it?'

Harry searched a sea of cold faces. _So that's how it is._ He tightened his hands into fists. _So much for house loyalty._ He spun and stormed toward the Chamber of Secrets before any of the words slipped up from the ball of cold fury in his chest to his tongue. _Salazar was right. I should’ve made better friends._

He marched past Myrtle's cubicle and down the stairs, tore his wand from his sleeve, and unleashed every violent spell he knew. Red, purple, and white magic hissed through the air. Serpent effigies shattered, throwing dust and sharp stone fragments across the chamber. A sharp piece of stone sliced a line of fire through his cheek and a hot drop trickled down his chin and neck..

 _Why?_ He hurled magic into the basilisk’s impenetrable hide. _Why? Why? Why?_ Harry slumped down against the wall and pounded his fist into the stone chips and dust until the pain swallowed his rage.

‘Stupid, bloody idiots.’ He picked bits of stone out of his hand and tossed them away, smearing blood down his robes. The small point of ice in his chest melted into a numb, hollow void. ‘They should know better. When have I _ever_ wanted to be in something like this?’

Harry repaired the damage he’d done to the walls, vanished the blood off his robes, and crossed into the study.

'What were you doing?' Salazar asked him.

'Venting.’

Salazar’s brows drew together. 'What happened?'

'My name was chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. I didn't even enter, but nobody will listen to me, let alone believe me. My housemates and friends certainly don't.’

'I do,' Salazar said.

'What does it say about my friends that the only one who trusts me is a thousand year old portrait?' Harry demanded.

'It says Godric and Helga would both be very disappointed. Tell me about the tournament.'

'It has tasks. Three of them. There’s a champion from each of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons, then me.'

'Is it dangerous?'

'It was cancelled because the contestants kept dying.'

'Something worth winning, then,' Salazar said.

'I'm competing with much older students; the best in their schools.'

'You're my heir. You're a prodigy at transfiguration, proficient at duelling, and you're powerful in your own right. You can win. You _will_ win.'

'Why would I even _want_ to win?' Harry asked. ‘It’s a stupid bloody idea. Let’s stick a bunch of children in a death-trap and watch what happens.’

'The hat nearly put you in Slytherin, yes?'

'Yes.'

'Then use some of that ambition you must have lurking inside you and prove yourself better. Silence your doubters and former friends by winning the damn thing.’ Salazar’s lip curled. ‘They'll come flocking back to you afterward, I guarantee it.'

'What if I don't want them back?'

'Make better allies, then.' Salazar’s wand let out a spurt of green and silver sparks. 'You wanted to be stronger. Accomplish it. Winning this tournament will prove you really have bettered yourself.'

 _I do need to be better._ Harry doubted he’d survive too many more adverse odds scrapes. _I’ve ridden my luck near to death already._

'What should I do?' he asked. 'How can I win?'

'Cunning. They’ll underestimate you and focus on the other champions. Ignore your pride and use theirs against them. A serpent strikes from hiding.' Salazar stroked the snake looped round his shoulders. 'Do the rituals. The first is more of a risk if you carry it out before adulthood, but its benefits will be greater because of it. The second is virtually risk free. The ritual was a common practice in my time, all but a rite of a passage. It will encourage your body to improve itself more quickly, though that’s a very simplistic explanation. Neither will bring you incredible power, but they’ll help close the gap between you and the others. Tom Riddle profited greatly from these, though he took them many steps further afterward on his own.'

Harry scowled at the painting. _And look what happened to Tom Riddle. More monster than man._

'Intent is the most important part of magic,' Salazar said. ‘There’s no such thing as light or dark, only the intent with which power is wielded. You might not like it, but Albus Dumbledore is not famous and admired because he’s well-intentioned. He’s famous and admired because he intended to do great things and was _powerful enough to accomplish them._ ’

_Damn right I don’t like it!_ Harry clenched his jaw and struggled for a retort. _But he’s right. Dumbledore could probably do anything Riddle’s done, he just chooses not to._

He took a deep breath. 'Fine. I'll do it.’

Salazar nodded. ‘A man who’s not afraid to open his mind to things he doesn’t like will always go further than one who covers his ears and refuses to listen.’

Faint footprints marked the ladder up to where Salazar said the books about rituals were. The feet were too large to be Ginny's, about the same size as Harry's own.

 _Riddle’s_ _footsteps_. Harry scuffed the marks away with his feet.

'First two in the book,' Salazar said. 'They're not very complex, just dangerous if you do something wrong.'

Harry dropped two battered books down atop a dust-covered copy of _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ and clambered down the ladder. Sheaps of parchment stuck out of the pages of the large, black tome.

 _Tom Riddle's homework, no doubt_.

He picked up his books and turned to the painting. 'Am I likely to do anything wrong?'

'Not with me here. Now take me out into the chamber. You're not drawing runes all over my tidy study.'

Harry sighed. _I hate_ _carrying this painting_. _Whomever cast the anti-levitating charm on it was a sadist of the highest order. It was probably Salazar himself._

‘Use the flagrate spell.’ Salazar sketched runes of green and silver fire in the air from the tip of his wand. ‘Like that. It’s best to have nothing but your own magic involved in the ritual.’

Harry tapped the tip of his wand on his palm and peered at the green flames in the cracked paint. _Flagrate’s just conjured fire. I wonder if I can change the colour._

He pictured purple flames and flicked his wand through the air. Indigo fire traced after it. Harry grinned.

‘What was wrong with green?’ Salazar crossed his arms. ‘Green is the best colour.’

‘I prefer purple.’ Harry etched the runes from the book onto the floor until he crouched within a seven-pointed star and triangle of violet runes.

‘No.’ Salazar jabbed his wand at the last runes. ‘Do that bit again.’ He cocked his head. ‘In fact, the first part and the runes by your left foot need to be more like the book, too.’

Harry glanced between them. _They could not be more identical._ He did them again. _Whatever. Just in case._

'A few drops of blood at each of the points of the star and triangle,’ Salazar said. ‘If you were some half-rate wizard instead of my descendant, we’d have to be careful and do these separately, or even use a triangle instead of the star.’

Harry drew his wand tip across his palm, splitting the skin. A thin line of red welled up and tricked into his cupped palm. He let a few drops fall onto each of the points. 'What happens now?'

'You stand exactly at the centre.' Salazar pointed his wand at the middle of the star. His snake mimicked the motion with its tail. 'Then you channel a little magic. The ritual will help you reach your magic more easily when you cast, as well as increasing your power by a small fraction.'

Harry folded his arms.

Salazar sighed. 'Fine. I'll embellish. Think of your magic as a bubble. When you’re born, you’ve got a tiny bubble, but, like all magical creatures, you have the ability to absorb magic and then use magic in some fashion. As you grow toward maturity, the bubble gets bigger, taking in magic from the world. You can force the bubble to get bigger by straining it in your formative years, but this is risky as too much strain and stress can warp how you use magic and even rob you of you control all together. Obscurials are created in such a fashion. This ritual, to use a limited metaphor that doesn't require a lot of study to understand, changes the consistency of the bubble a fraction. You will draw magic in or out more easily, which makes casting spells more efficient, reduces the risks of strain, and lets you grow a little more powerful as a bonus.'

'And if something goes wrong?'

'Your runes are perfect, so unless you’re interrupted, nothing will happen.'

'Humour me?'

'Your bubble changes too much and does something very interesting. It’s a virtually non-existent possibility. I’ve checked your runes.'

'And the other ritual? Any nasty surprises there?'

'If you drew the triangle incorrectly or unevenly the effects might only be limited to certain parts of your body or certain aspects of improvement. You could simply redo it to correct things.'

Harry fingered his glasses. 'Will it fix my eyesight?'

'No.' Salazar shook his head. 'It pushes your body to make the best use of what it’s given, but it won't affect any pre-existing problems with template of your anatomy. It’ll likely only give you the body of an athletic fourteen year old and perhaps speed up puberty.'

 _That’s a shame_. _They’re always falling off or misting up. It’s frankly a miracle it hasn’t happened at a more inconvenient moment, like in the presence of something highly dangerous._

Harry frowned. 'I don't have to be naked, do I? It’s chilly down here. I think we’re right under the lake.'

The snake buried its head in Salazar’s robes.

'Only a very precise and advanced ritual would be affected by clothing like yours. Fortunately for both of us, these two are neither. You should probably leave your wand outside, though, just in case.'

Harry placed his holly and phoenix feather wand outside the edge of the runic star. 'I suppose I’d best get started.’

 _I won't turn back._ He watched the glyphs begin to glow and drew himself up. _I won't even look back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	9. Ostracised

Cold, hard stone pressed into Harry’s cheek. The faint, metallic tang of blood hovered on his parched tongue. A dull, slow beat throbbed somewhere near the centre of his skull. Patches of blurred colour swam before his eyes.

 _My glasses._ He squinted around.

The round-framed lenses lay a few feet from his nose. He pushed them back onto his face and struggled upright.

Salazar snoozed in his frame. The stone floor of the chamber bore faint purple scorch marks where Harry's blood had spattered the points of his ritual star and triangle. Faded indigo lines lingered where the runes had been.

Harry cradled his throbbing head and watched the violet marks vanish. He scraped his parched tongue round the inside of his mouth and groaned. _I really need some water_.

He staggered past the snoring Salazar and retrieved his wand. His head gushed with images of clear, cool, water flowing, pouring, and swirling. ‘Aguamenti.'

A spray of water reflected off his cupped hand like tap water off the inside off a spoon and soaked his chest.

 _Wonderful._ He scowled at the chill creeping down his front. _Now I have to go back to Gryffindor Tower and change._

Salazar’s snores rumbled to a stop. 'Oh look. You survived.'

'I feel utterly awful.'

'Why are you wet? The ritual has nothing to do with water.'

'I wanted a drink.' Harry stuck his wand in his sleeve and dried his other hand on a dry patch of his robes.

'Your magic came out more easily than you expected, then. Good thing the first spell you tried was quite a harmless one.'

'I've got to go and change.’

Take me back into the study first. I've spent more than enough time near that basilisk already.'

'Fine.' Harry heaved the portrait onto his shoulders.

'You should really make better use of her,' Slytherin.

Harry hefted the painting back up onto the wall. 'Of who?'

'My basilisk, of course.' Salazar gave him a pitying look. 'There's all sorts of useful stuff on that serpent.'

'Like what?' Harry glanced back through the door. ‘The impenetrable scales that can’t be cut into anything useful?’

'The venom,' Salazar snapped. 'The skin and the meat’s only valuable if you can use it. _You_ can’t.'

'I'm not going anywhere near that thing's mouth again. One dose of venom was enough for me.' He shuddered at the memory of it burning through his veins. ‘More than enough.’

'You were bitten?'

'Phoenix tears.’

'About the only things the ridiculous birds produce that's useful,' Salazar grumbled. 'Helga had one of the silly things; it never did anything except steal fruit and set fire to things. Snakes are far better.'

_Because you’re not at all biased._

'I quite like phoenixes. Fawkes saved my life. My wand even has a phoenix feather core.’

Salazar stroked the head of his snake. 'I'd bet it's a powerful, but rather limited wand. Phoenix feather wands don’t excel at some of the more delicate aspects of magic.'

'Why not?'

'Not for sure. Helga told me it might have something to with their elusive but powerful and emotive nature. I think she was guessing.' Salazar furrowed his brow in thought. 'You should get your wand checked, really. That ritual can sometimes have an effect on it.'

Harry pressed his wand into his chest. 'It can?'

'That's why I told you to leave it outside of the runes. You've slightly changed your magic, inevitably that will have some effect on the conduit you use to channel magic.'

‘What kind of effect?'

'Most of the time it's nothing. Neither I nor Tom Riddle ever noticed a difference, but I heard of instances when the person needed their wand length changed, a different type of wood, or even a new core. I wouldn't worry about it. You could just have a new one made or, if you can't afford it, don't. The old one might not be a perfect match, but it will still work very well for you.'

'I see.' Harry pulled the cold, wet front of his robes away from his skin. 'I should leave.'

'Visit soon,' Salazar said. ‘Take it easy for a day or two, though. Rituals can take some time to recover from.'

‘Well, it’s not like I’m involved in anything dangerous.’

Salazar snorted, then settled down in his frame and closed his eyes.

Harry left the portrait to nap. 'Hey, Myrtle,' he called on his way past the cubicle.

'Have you been down here all night?' Myrtle swooped out of her cubicle, her cheeks flushed silver.

'Yes, but you can't tell anyone. I _really_ need somewhere that's just for me.'

She flashed him a small smile. 'I won't share, Harry. You're the only person that ever comes to talk to poor Myrtle.'

'Thanks.' He pulled a wide smile onto his face. 'I have to go change. I'm all wet.'

Myrtle giggled. 'I noticed.' She zipped into her cubicle with her hands clasped over her mouth.

 _Odd._ Harry eyed the closed door of Myrtle's cubicle, then headed foe Gryffindor Tower. _Oh well._

'Mr Potter.’ Professor Mcgonagall caught him on the staircase up to the Fat Lady's picture. ‘Where have you been?'

 _I was practicing what’s probably considered dark magic in the Chamber of Secrets._ Harry held his tongue.

Professor Mcgonagall drew herself up. 'And why are you wet?'

'I performed the water-summoning spell a little too proficiently.'

'That's a sixth year spell, Mr Potter.' Some of the stiffness faded from her posture and her eyes softened. ‘Very well done. It needs to be, too, since as Triwizard champion, you’re excused from all lessons you don’t wish to attend.'

 _No more potions._ A grin slipped onto his lips. _Every cloud has its silver lining._

'I hope that smile has nothing to do with not having to attend your lessons, Mr Potter,' Professor Mcgonagall chided. 'You've come forwards in leaps and bounds from last year, but this tournament is still much too dangerous for any child, let alone a fourth year. I can't believe so many of the younger years would have the irresponsibility to try and enter their names.' She swept off.

The Fat Lady gave him a cool look, but swung out of his way.

 _Really?_ _Even the portraits?_

A tense, thick quiet fell over the common room. Harry ignored the stares and strode upstairs to his dormitory. Dull white hangings dangled from around his bed.

 _Petty._ He dispelled the charm with a tap of his wand, then checked for anything untoward. _If Ron’s set the twins on me, this could_ _be a long year._ Harry discarded his wet robes onto the pile of not-so-clean clothes and clawed on some clean ones.

'H-Harry.' A quiet shuffle came from the dormitory’s doorway.

'Neville.'

Neville steepled his fingers and pushed his hands together. 'I'm sorry about the others, Harry. They're just angry that you told them you wouldn't enter, didn't want to, and still managed to come away with something they all wanted.'

'Do you believe I put my name in, Neville?’

He shuffled his feet. 'I don't think it really matters. I didn't ever want to take part, but everyone else, they were so hopeful. When you became champion after being so disinterested in it all, they got really annoyed. Especially the older students who thought they had a good chance.'

Harry sighed. 'If I could've I would've swapped with them, Nev.’

'Yeah, I know, but that doesn't mean all that much when you can't.'

 _He's right_. _It doesn't matter what I say or what I wanted. I still have what they were after and the fact I didn’t want it probably makes it worse._

'Anyone share your opinion?' he asked. 'Or is it just you?'

'Most of the younger students are annoyed you managed to get past Dumbledore when they couldn't, the older ones are resentful, especially Angelina, and Ron, Seamus, and Dean were really angry.'

'I'll take that as a no, then.'

'Lavender, Parvati, and some of the girls in our year and below don't mind. Hermione seems more worried about you and wherever you're spending all your time than anything to do with the Triwizard Tournament. It's Angelina Johnson and the few who were tipped to be champion who you need to watch out for. They're _really_ not happy you stole their place.'

'I didn't _steal_ anything, Neville.'

‘Well, I don't think you’re going to be seeker next year.' Neville stared at his toes. ‘I don’t think you’re going to be very popular for a while.’

'I’ve dealt with that before. Remember second year?'

‘Gryffindor house stuck by you in second year,' Neville muttered. ‘Angelina’s made pretty sure that won’t happen.’

 _Stupid bloody girl._ Harry watched him shuffle away with a ice coursing through his veins. _Is Angelina that upset she didn’t get picked? Cedric got chosen over her anyway._

Harry wandered back down to the common room with a tight, cold ball caught up in his chest.

Lavender and Parvati giggled by the fire. They shot him brief glances with soft eyes, then turned away. He slumped down and stared into the flames.

'There you are, Harry.' A hand came down on either of his shoulders. The Weasley twins appeared on either side of him.

He let his wand slide down his sleeve into his palm. ‘What do you two want?’

‘No to need for concern, Harrikins. We're not against you.' They pulled up two chairs of their own, each sitting on the chair their brother had brought.

'You believe me?'

'If we couldn't get past the age line, how could an ickle fourth year?' They smiled and shook their heads. 'That's not it at all.'

'Besides, even if you did, then we'd only tip our hats to you for tricking the headmaster himself. Right, George?'

'Right, Fred. The problem we face is far more tricky. Fred and I, we're quite close to Angelina and Alicia. Girls, you know.

‘Well, you don’t, but you will, eh, Harrikins.’

Fred shrugged. ‘We don't want to ruin that, so I'm afraid we'll have to be keeping our distance a bit. Ginny, too. Ron's already written home some garbled version of events and told her to stay away from you.'

'She didn't look too happy about it, though, did she, Fred?'

'Indeed not, George. She hexed our littlest brother good, but she said she really wants to join the quidditch team next year… and you know Angelina will hold a grudge, Alicia too.'

'They haven't forgiven us for swapping on our double date with them yet,' Fred said. 'And that was almost a year ago.'

'No pranks and no hard feelings.' They patted Harry on the shoulder, then left him by the fire.

Harry stared into the flames’ flickering orange light. _Hermione better believe me, or I might as well just move in with Salazar._

He tossed another log onto the fire and watched the flames curl over it. It cracked and popped, scattering sparks over the front of the grate. Ash trickled from the crevices of the log down into the cooling pile of embers.

‘Screw this.’ Harry thrust himself out of the chair and wandered toward charms.

_Hermione always gets there_ _early._

He stuck his head round the door. Empty chairs lingered between bare desks. Harry slipped into a seat in the back corner of the class.

'Mr Potter!' Professor Flitwick bounced into his classroom. 'I was under the impression that you were excused from classes.'

'I'm excused from the ones I don't want to attend, sir,' Harry said.

'Oh! Your mother always loved charms, it must run in the family. You're almost as early as she used to be!’ Flitwick teetered on the balls of his feet. ‘Do you have questions for me? Miss Granger normally comes early with questions.'

'I'm keeping up fine, professor. I've actually gotten a little ahead.'

'That's great news! You'll need the time to prepare for the tournament. Where have you managed to get up to?'

A brief warmth surged through Harry’s chest and a hot lump rose into his throat. 'I've finished all of it.’

'All of it?!' Professor Flitwick’s jaw dropped. 'But… it's _October_!'

'I did some reading over the summer.’

'Quite a lot of reading by the sound of it.’

Flitwick pulled his wand out and waved it at his desk. The cap of an ink bottle unscrewed itself and floated over. 'Can you demonstrate your banishing charm for me, Mr Potter? It would certainly ease my worries about you being a champion.'

Harry flicked his wand.

The cap hissed across the classroom and pinged off the window.

'Excellent!' Professor Flitwick cried. 'Non-verbal as well. I wonder why you even came to class today, Mr Potter. You’re well ahead of all your peers.'

Hermione cleared her throat from the door to the classroom. ‘Professor?’

'Miss Granger. Your friend has just been demonstrating his astonishing grasp of the banishing spell. Quite exemplary for a fourth year!'

Hermione’s eyes darted to Harry’s wand. 'I had a question about our essays, Professor.'

'It's a bit late now, Miss Granger. I'm collecting them at the start of class.'

'Oh.'

'Er, Professor Flitwick…' Harry slid his wand back into his sleeve. 'I haven't got my essay.'

'Don't worry, Mr Potter. You clearly are in no need of the revision that essay provides. You've been excused from classes regardless, remember.'

Harry released a quiet sigh. 'Thank you, professor.’

'You can perform the banishing charm?' Hermione whispered as the other students filed in looking remarkably under eager. ‘You said it looked interesting, not that you’d already mastered it!’

‘I thought it might come in useful. It’s about time I took some of this stuff more seriously, there’s only so many times I can luck my way out of life-threatening scenarios.'

'That's probably wise of you. I’m impressed, Harry.' Hermione pursed her lips. 'Is that where you've been disappearing off to then?'

A smile crept onto Harry’s lips. 'Yeah. I needed to practise somewhere.'

'How far have you got?'

Harry weighed the words on the tip of his tongue, measuring the spark of competition burning in Hermione’s eyes. 'I've reached a lot of the sixth year material in both charms and transfiguration.’

'Thats amazing, Harry!' She glanced around and lowered her voice. ‘Seriously. I saw you trying to summon butterflies, but I thought it was a one-off attempt. You’ve gotten so good, so fast.'

‘I've got the hang of that butterfly spell now. If it wasn’t for this bloody tournament, I might’ve managed loads of new stuff this year.'

Hermione crossed her arms. 'I can't believe you're ahead of me in two classes now _._ '

Harry glimpsed more a flash of envy in her eyes. 'You'll still be as good as me at potions, our electives, and you're miles better than me at any essays.’

'Charms and Transfiguration are my favourites after Arithmancy, though.' Hermione sighed. 'And now you're better than me at them. I’ll have to get the hang of the banishing charm this week now, too.'

 _Have to?_ Harry raised an eyebrow. _Really? Why does she always feel like she needs to know more than me?_

Flitwick handed a pair of small, clay tiles to them. ‘Repairing charm,’ he squeaked. ‘A very useful one indeed.’

Harry nudged Hermione’s elbow. 'Do you think I put my name in?'

'Honestly? I don’t think so, but I'm not certain. You've been different since the World Cup. Distant, withdrawn, but, I don’t know, more _driven_. I don't know what you're thinking like I used to.' She poked her clay tile round in a circle with the tip of her wand. ‘Is it me? Is it because now you know all this stuff, you don’t need me to help anymore? So you don’t need to talk to me?’

'You’re my friend, Hermione.’ Harry caught her tile under his hand. ‘If I just wanted someone to tell me facts, I’d go to the library or ask a teacher.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t put my name in. I promise. You know how this stuff is for me, anything remotely weird and I get sucked into it somehow.’

 _Well, not somehow, usually Riddle._ Harry froze. _Let’s hope it’s not this time. It doesn’t really seem like his sort of thing._

‘That’s true.' Hermione dropped her tile onto the desk. It shattered across the hard wood. ‘But you’re not acting like you did before. You used to get sucked into dangerous stuff and, well, play the hero, I guess. It was never about _you_. This isn’t like that. It’s dangerous, but it’s a game. And it’s all about the champions. About _you_. You can’t pretend you’re not competitive. I’ve seen you play quidditch. You must want to win a bit.’

‘It’s not worth winning. It’s a stupid idea.'

 _Something worth winning._ Harry buried the echo of Salazar’s words somewhere further down where he couldn’t hear them. _Maybe a bit, deep down._

Hermione flashed him a smile. 'At least you aren't the Heir of Slytherin.’

 _Yeah, that would be terrible_. He frowned. _Salazar’s sarcasm is_ _starting to rub off on me._

'I'm sure it'll all pass, just like things did that year.'

'I had to kill a basilisk to prove my innocence! And nobody in Gryffindor listened to the rumours back then.'

'It'll be fine.' Hermione tapped the tile with her wand. It crept back together into a square, marred only by a few thin, dark lines. 'Ron will get over it, he always does. When it becomes clear you didn't put your name in, everyone will feel rather stupid and come to apologise.'

'I'm not sure I want them back,' Harry whispered.

'Harry!' Hermione’s tile slipped through her fingers and shattered. 'They're your _friends_.'

'They aren't acting like it, are they?'

'But it's not really their fault. You must realise what it looks like. You cast a bit of a shadow, Harry, and it just keeps getting bigger.'

‘If they want to be friends with me, then they should know me well enough to see through it.' He scowled at her tile as it flowed back into a perfect, clay square. 'If they don’t know me well enough to get past that, then they can’t really be my friends, can they?'

‘Just because they know better doesn’t mean they can help themselves from reacting. Nobody can.’ Hermione gnawed at her lip. ‘Even me. Look at you, suddenly as good at me at everything, with all the popularity and fame. Why would you need some muggleborn girl hanging off your coattails? And I know that’s not how you see it, but sometimes it’s all I can think about.’

 _So she has to be better than me._ Riddle’s smooth whisper welled up from the back of his skull. _Because if she’s better than me, I’ll need her._ A shard of ice froze beneath his ribs. _Did she not think I might stick by my friends just because they’re my friends?_

‘That’s stupid.’ Harry shook his head and swept his bag back up onto his shoulder.

‘It isn’t.’ Hermione chewed her lip, then crossed her arms and huffed. ‘What? I can’t help it! None of the others are any better!’

 _No. You’re just as bad as the others._ He bit his tongue before the words slipped out and stalked out. _Maybe if I’m better than you often enough, you’ll realise it doesn’t matter. You can just be my friend, then._

'Shouldn't you be in lessons, Potter?' Malfoy sneered at him from the end of the charms corridor.

'Shouldn't you?'

'I heard your housemates have finally realised what a pretentious, pathetic person you are.’ Malfoy smirked. 'Even Weasley doesn't want anything to do with you. How does it feel to be ditched by a charity case?'

Harry glanced up and down the empty corridor. _Just the two of us_.

He slipped his wand from his sleeve. 'Anything else you'd like to say?’ He placed the tip between Malfoy's eyes. 'I know a wonderful number of hexes now.’

'You wouldn't dare.’

'Try me.' Harry dragged his widest, brightest smile onto his face. 'Please, try me. Give me an excuse.'

'You think you're such a big shot, Potter,' Malfoy snarled. 'You're nothing. Everyone knows you're just a cheat and a liar now.' He shoved himself out from under Harry's wand. ‘Look at you, all alone. And no wonder–‘

'You've grown brave, Malfoy.' Harry clawed his smile back over his lips. 'Talking back to someone who has you at wand point and walking around the castle without your lackeys. Aguamenti.'

 _Nothing._ His thoughts echoed from the back of his mind in Riddle's voice. _I was nothing for eleven years. No name. No hope. Barely even existing. This spoilt brat understands nothing._

A stream of water burst from his wand tip, drenching Malfoy in water.

‘Potter,’ he spluttered. ‘I’ll see you in so many detentions for this!’

Harry laughed. ‘No you won’t. Not unless you want to admit I bested you with a water conjuring charm of all things.’ He grinned. 'You probably should’ve kept your newfound bravado in check, Draco. It’s really not done you any favours.’

'I hope you die in the tournament, Potter.'

'I doubt you're the only one, but I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you.' Harry slipped his wand back into his sleeve and out of sight. 'Oh, and Malfoy, if I find out you or _your father_ have anything to do with my name coming out of the goblet, I'm going to make you wish you’d been competing in my place.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	10. Curiosity Piqued

A torrent of students poured through the corridors. Tapestries and hangings swayed on the walls in the wake of their passing. Snoozing portraits cracked open their eyes to frown and scowl at the hubbub below them.

Fleur stuck her fingers out of the shadows of her alcove into the bright beam of light spilling through the window. Her disillusioned fingers weren’t even a ripple in the air. _Perfect. As always._

The thick, wooden door opposite her hiding place creaked open and a knot of Hogwarts pupils sauntered out.

Fleur leant against the wall and watched her youngest competitor slip off the back of the group of students. _The fourth champion._ She tossed her hair over her shoulder and crept out into the corridor. _In the Triwizard Tournament. What nonsense._

He paused on the balls of his feet as the corridors emptied and the noise faded, then turned on his heel and stepped right into her.

The boy’s glasses skittered across the floor.

‘Merde.’ Fleur abandoned her spell, then plucked his glasses off the floor and stepped back from his outstretched hand. ‘You’re Harry Potter, non?’

‘So everyone keeps telling me.’ The boy squinted at her. ‘I’m afraid you’re a sort of silvery-blue blur…’

 _Oh? You can’t see me?_ Fleur smiled. _Perfect._

‘How did you get your magic round the age line?’ she asked.

Ice crept into the boy’s green eyes. ‘I didn’t.’

 _Vraiment?_ Fleur tossed her hair over her shoulder. _Your magic cannot cross an age line if you’re not older than the age set. It’s a simple ward, if an archaic one._

‘You did not break Albus Dumbledore’s ward, everyone in the castle would’ve noticed.’ She held his glasses out. ‘So how did your name get in?’

He reached for his glasses, but she pulled them back from his fingers. ‘Really?’ There was ice in his voice, too. ‘Why do you care? You don’t even know me.’

‘I can’t think of a way to get around the ward and still have my name go into the goblet,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m good with wards.’

‘Well if you think of one, let me know. I’d be _very_ interested.’

Fleur cast the disillusionment charm over herself just as he lunged and tugged his glasses out of her fingers. She stepped back against the wall as he twisted round with narrow eyes. His wand slid from his sleeve into his hand.

‘Weird girl.’ The boy strode down the corridor. ‘Why do people care so much about this death trap tournament?’

 _The only way past an age line is to conceal your magic completely. Impossible for any fourteen year old._ Fleur pursed her lips. _But that makes no sense, because then Dumbledore must’ve staged the whole thing. And that’s just ridiculous._

Harry Potter’s footsteps faded round the corner.

‘Merde, he’s getting away.’ She hurried after the boy.

Fleur tracked him through the Great Hall to the foot of the moving staircases.

 _The only thing I like about this school and they’re completely impractical._ She darted up the steps as the boy stepped off and the stairs shifted.

Harry Potter paused in the middle of a corridor and glanced up and down.

 _Maybe Dumbledore wanted an extra bite at the apple._ Fleur edged along the line of the wall. _But then why choose a fairly unremarkable looking fourth year? Apart from being slightly resistant to my magic and that scar, there’s nothing obviously special about him._

The boy slipped through a door near the corridor’s end.

Fleur tip-toed after him and choked. _A girls’ bathroom! What kind of fourteen year old is her?!_

A girl’s voice echoed from within. Fleur pressed her ear to the door, but the words remained muffled, even the boy’s deeper voice.

Silence fell.

Fleur pulled her head back from against the door, checked her charm, then eased the door open and crept inside.

A row of empty cubicles, a large central sink, and a sizeable puddle of water spread across the white tiles.

‘Merde.’ Fleur turned her nose up. ‘That’s it. I’m not wasting another second on him. I’ve other competitors to keep an eye on, ones that actually have a chance of winning.’

_If there’s anything special about him, it’ll show up during the tournament’s tasks anyway._

She shoved the bathroom door open and strode out. Grey clouds stretched beyond the small, high windows and the carpet stretched away below portraits and tapestries of goblin warbands. ‘And now I’m lost. How annoying.’

Fleur wandered the corridors back in what she hoped was the direction she’d come. _But knowing magical architecture, it’s anything but. Just my luck. As always._

'Honestly, Ron.' The bushy-haired girl Fleur’d seen near Harry Potter on occasion dragged a gangly redhead into an empty classroom. 'This spat with Harry is getting well out of hand.'

 _Or maybe not._ Fleur double-checked her disillusionment, then tip-toed to the door.

'I'm not the one who lied to his friends, Hermione!’ Ron’s balled fists waved about either side of Hermione’s bushy hair. Fire flashed in his eyes.

'We both know Harry's promise isn't what this is about. He's either telling the truth, or he lied to spare your feelings, neither of which you can really blame him for, especially given how you’ve all reacted!'

Ron’s scowl deepened. 'Then what's it about?'

'It's about you, and half of Gryffindor House by the appearance of it, taking out your dissatisfaction at being in Harry's shadow out on Harry. He can't control his fame, Ron. You know that.' Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. 'Harry isn't taking this well. He's been acting off since the World Cup. You've seen how distant he's become. You and Angelina are driving him further and further away. I know you're angry now, but you'll regret losing your friend the moment you calm down.'

Ron grunted. 'I won't lose him. This sort of thing happens between us guys sometimes. He'll apologise for lying and I'll apologise for overreacting. The air will clear and things will go back to the way they were. It's how we work.'

'That's how you and the old Harry worked,' Hermione snapped. 'The new Harry is as good as me at half the subjects we take, better at a few of them, and seriously considering ending his friendships with all of you for good.'

'You aren't serious,' Ron’s face turned a mottled red beneath his freckles. 'He'd never say that. We argue, yeah, and this time has been bad, but he’d never walk away from us. He can't. He's _Harry_ and even if I can't stand him at the moment, we're still friends.'

' _I'm not even sure I want them back_. Those were his exact words. For pity's sake, Ron, swallow your pride, drag Seamus, Dean, and anyone you can with you, apologise, and hope the old Harry resurfaces to forgive you, because I’m afraid if you don’t, we won’t ever see him again!'

Fleur pursed her lips. _They’ll apologise, then do it all again. If the boy’s smart, he’ll learn from his mistake instead of repeating it._

'I’ll think about it.' Ron shuffled his feet. 'I didn't realise he'd taken it so badly. You think something happened to him, over the summer, or at the World Cup? Those bloody muggles?'

'I don't know, Ron. I only know what he’s said, which isn’t much. Maybe that Bulgarian Veela did something, or someone else did before she found him.'

_Veela? He’s met one of us before?_

'You think he got cursed while he was out of it?'

'He was very vague about his story, Ron, and he's been secretive since then. Maybe he wasn't even unconscious at all.'

'He was pretty out of it in the hospital wing, Hermione. You can't exactly fake magical exhaustion and a coma.'

'He said he doesn't remember casting any spells.' Hermione shook her head. 'Some things don't really add up about that.'

Ron shot her a half-pitying, half-amused stare.

'They don't!' She huffed. ‘It doesn’t matter. You need to need to fix this, then drag Harry to play quidditch, or cards, or whatever instead of studying. And then you’ll need me to try and make you two actually do some work.’ She smiled and her gaze lost focus. ‘It’ll be like before.’

'I'll try.’ Ron grimaced. 'Angelina Johnson’s still on the warpath. Katie Bell was literally _pleading_ with her to change her mind about kicking Harry from playing seeker next year and she wasn’t having any of it.'

'She really believes he entered?'

‘Yeah.’

Hermione sighed. 'Professor Dumbledore seemed to think Harry entered; he looked very disappointed.'

'You think he actually might’ve secretly entered himself using his cloak?’

Fleur rolled her eyes. _No fourteen year old’s charmed cloak is going to get him across an age line cast by Albus Dumbledore._

'I don't know. I just don't know. He’s changed. Professor Dumbledore looks troubled, too. Every time he sees Harry, he gets this worried, haunted look.'

'I'll apologise,' Ron said. 'I won’t bloody like it, because he’s been a right git about the whole thing, but I'll encourage Ginny to speak to him again and I'll try to convince Seamus, Dean, and the others to back off a bit. Won’t be any bloody fun, though. Ginny’s going to hex me again.'

'Thanks, Ron. He flipped out on me and left Charms. I’ve barely seen him since.'

 _So I'm not the only one he's evading_. Fleur recast her disillusionment. _I used to avoid everyone when I was younger. Everyone except Gabby_ _._

'We'll have to find him to apologise,' Hermione said.

'He comes back to the dormitory quite late most days.' Ron waved an arm at the ceiling. 'I'll gather everyone in the common room and we can catch him then.'

'That's a pretty good plan,' Hermione muttered.

Ron snorted. 'Chess player, remember. Plus, if you’ve not figured out where he's going in over a month, we aren't going to in the next couple of days.'

Fleur scowled. _He’s good at vanishing, not that it will help him much in the tournament._

The two English fourth years swept out of the empty class.

Fleur muddled her way back to the flying carriage.

The other girls were scattered across the grass, swaddled in scarves and jumpers. Caroline, Emilie, and most girls her age were busy ogling the Durmstrang boys relaxing shirtless on the deck of their ship.

Fleur headed back toward her own room, then paused before her headmistress’ office. 'Madame Maxime?'

'Yes, come in, Fleur.’

'Do you know anything about age lines, madame?'

Madame Maxime steepled her huge fingers. 'Why do you ask? It cannot possibly be for the tournament.'

Fleur kept a straight face. 'I was curious. Albus Dumbledore used one. I’ve not seen the ward actually cast before.'

Madame Maxime nodded. 'They're interesting, but quite useless. I don't doubt I’m the only one of your teachers who knows much more than the name of the enchantment. They’re designed to allow passage to magical beings provided the age of the being’s magic meets the requirement. They’re so simple they can’t be bypassed in the same way more conventional wards might, but very inflexible in their use. It’s not a ward you’ll ever really need to use, Fleur.'

'Thank you, madame,' Fleur replied.

 _Harry Potter must’ve found a way_. _Perhaps someone older with the same name who didn’t care about breaking a magical contract let him take their place._

She slipped into her room, closed the door, then locked it. ‘It doesn’t matter. I was chosen because I’m better than all the other girls at Beauxbatons and I’m definitely better than some fourth year.’ She dragged the mirror up and stared at her reflection’s bright, blue eyes. ‘I’m going to win. As always.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	11. To Err is Human

A procession of battered portraits with cracked paint lined the walls between millennium-old tapestries, gleaming suits of armour. Harry drifted past them, brushing the crumbs of his lunch off his robes to join the crumbs of his breakfast.

 _Stupid bloody Hermione._ He hurled the last bite of his sandwich into the face of a suit armour. _And her stupid bloody obsession with being better than everyone. And her stupid bloody fear of not being needed._

Harry slipped his wand out of his sleeve and vanished the chunk of sandwich. ‘She’s going to have even fewer friends than me if she keeps this stupid bloody stuff up.’ He stuffed his wand back away. ‘And I still need somewhere to practice while I’m using the time-turner in the Chamber of Secrets.’

A door appeared between two tapestries.

Harry paused. ‘Well, if that’s not bloody suspicious, I don’t know what is.’ He glanced up and down the corridor, then twisted the latch. ‘There better not be another three-headed hellhound in here.’

Empty, white walls glistened inside.

Harry shrugged. _Needs some targets, but it’ll do._

The dark drew together in the corners, looming into skeletal silhouettes draped in robes of tattered shadow.

‘The Room of Requirement.’ Harry grinned. ‘Salazar wasn’t just making it up, then. This is perfect.’

He slipped out, closed the door, and watched it melt back into the stonework. _Absolutely perfect._

Harry hurried to the chamber, sprinting down the stairs and jumping over the bridge the moment it rose from the water.

‘I found the Room of Requirement.’ His words vanished into gasps and he doubled over the desk until his breath returned. ‘I found the Room of Requirement.’

Salazar raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

‘Sixth floor corridor. I was wandering around and it just appeared.’ Harry waved a hand at the small golden hourglass. ‘I can use the time-turner there.’

‘No.’ Salazar patted his serpent’s head. ‘The hourglass can’t leave the Chamber of Secrets. I’m sure I told you that already, you forgetful brat.’

‘You might’ve done.’ Harry feigned thought. ‘But perhaps you’re just going even more senile than you already are.’

‘Ungrateful little wretch.’ Salazar muttered a few choice words in parseltongue. ‘You can go to the Room of Requirement, then come back here and repeat the time in the Chamber. Prevents you seeing yourself, too, though since you know what you’re going to be doing, it shouldn’t really be an issue.’

‘No paradoxes?’

Salazar snorted. ‘Why on earth would the entirety of existence disappear because there’s two of you for a short while. Even _you_ can’t cause that much trouble.’ He shook his head. ‘Time and space are flexible things, not straight lines. The time-turner just helps bend them a bit further around yourself.’

Harry repeated that to himself a couple of times. ‘I feel like it takes a considerable amount of study to really understand what you just said.’

Salazar chuckled. ‘I’d take my word for it, it’ll be quicker.’

‘I’ve used one before and I’m pretty sure I saw myself, I just didn’t realise it was me until afterward.’ Harry frowned. ‘I made a self-fulfilling loop.’

‘You will have to every time you use it.’ Salazar’s serpent coiled round his face. ‘Get off you wretched creature.’ The portrait peeled it off with its free hand and tied it into a knot. The snake squirmed round his neck, bumping his chin with its knotted tail. ‘Now, why are you here?’

‘I’ve got a list. Apparation. Mind arts. The disillusionment charm. Some random French girl stole my glasses, tried to interrogate me, then vanished. I’m pretty sure she disillusioned herself and it looked useful.’

‘The mind arts is something of specialty of mine.' Salazar straightened his snake out along his shoulders. ‘If you don’t stay still, you annoying piece of living upholstery, I’m going to transfigure you into a worm.’

Harry pretended he hadn’t heard that. 'I discovered some muggle mind exercises that help you clear your mind and focus. They seem like they’d be the same as the magical ones, but I can’t easily get into the restricted section to check.'

'Occlumency is the art of shielding your mind. It's a bit of a misnomer, actually. What you really do is empty your thoughts so an intruder can’t see anything.'

‘Make sense.’

Salazar nodded. ‘I imagine it would. My daughter was even more skilled than I was in the area. Tom Riddle was no amateur, either.’

‘Is that all there is to it?’

Salazar crossed his arms. ‘Not at all. Legilimency is considered Occlumency’s opposite by amateurs. It’s all about seeing the thoughts of others. Mind magics are subtle, complex things. These labels, they don’t really do it justice.’ He stroked his chin. ‘Best to start with apparition. It’s very useful if you get into a tight spot.’

Harry nodded. ‘So what do I do?’

'Focus. Concentrate on your destination. Will yourself there. Make sure you’re focused and your will is strong, otherwise you're liable to appear in multiple places at once and die. My heir will _not_ die because he splinched himself. Godric would wet himself laughing in the afterlife.'

Harry dragged the painting off the wall and over the bridge. ‘What about the wards? I’m sure I’ve heard someone say you can’t apparate in the school. Once. Twice. Maybe a hundred times.’

‘The Chamber of Secrets isn’t included within Hogwarts' wards.’ Salazar waved his hands around him. ‘There was no point. It’s already more strongly warded than the school. So even if the headmaster has turned on the anti-apparition wards, they won’t affect you here.’

‘Ok.’ Harry pictured the far side of the chamber and tried to will himself there.

His stomach lurched and his vision swam. ‘Urgh.’ Harry collapsed to one knee and swallowed his breakfast back down. ‘Bloody hell.’

‘Well, that was awful.’ Salazar tutted. ‘What were you imagining? Haven’t you ever seen anyone apparate?’

Harry held his breath until his stomach settled. ‘No. I haven’t.’

'You've never seen anyone apparate? Have you been under a rock for the last fourteen years?'

'I was raised by and live with muggles.’

'Oh.' Salazar stared down toward the bottom of his frame. 'Well, that explains it. You should just appear in the space. Imagine it as if instead of you moving, some impossible force twisted the world instead, so you ended up standing where you pictured.'

Harry considered it and took a few deep breaths. He pictured the tip of the forked, tongue-styled bridge and imagined the world wrenching back past him.

His magic twisted.

A loud crack echoed through the Chamber of Secrets and he found himself standing on the end of the bridge.

‘Yes!’ Harry grinned.

A wave of nausea and dizziness struck him, his vision failed, and he fell. Ice-cold water smacked him in the face, then closed over him.

Harry clawed himself out, shivering and sputtering.

Salazar laughed so hard the snake fell off his shoulders.

'Shut up,' Harry hissed, lapsing into parseltongue.

The nausea struck again as he clambered out and stood up. He doubled over and hurled his stomach onto the floor. A bitter taste flooded his mouth and burnt his throat.

'You'll get used to the feeling.' Salazar wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. 'Godric was hopeless at any form of magical transportation for years. He'd fall over whenever we apparated, so if we wanted to make a decent first impression, Helga would side-long him and hold him upright. He hated it.'

'I can empathise.' Harry growled and wiped his lips, then vanished the contents of his stomach. An over-powered warming charm left him steaming and drove the cold from his limbs. He reapplied it several times until his robes dried.

'You'll be fine. Keep practicing.'

'You just want to watch me fall over,' Harry grumbled.

Salazar’s eyes softened. 'It reminds me of Godric.’

Harry visualised the far end of the chamber and reappeared there. He staggered, then fell to his knees. Salazar’s laughter echoed from the far side of the chamber.

It took a further ten attempts before he could manage to remain upright and an additional five for him to do it without swaying or staggering all over the place like a drunk.

'It's a good skill to learn,' Salazar said. ‘If you get disarmed and have to escape, apparition could save your life. The ability to quickly apparate saved my life more than a couple of times. Was there anything else you wanted to learn?'

'The disillusionment charm,' Harry suggested.

_My invisibility cloak is great, but has its drawbacks._

'Not an easy one, not if you want to master it. It takes quite a bit of talent and control, the latter more than anything, to manage it flawlessly and become fully invisible.'

Harry let his wand slide out of his sleeve and into his hand. ‘I’ve time to practice.’

'Well, you know what you should be visualising. You should be fairly adept at this spell, despite the phoenix feather.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. ‘Lay off my phoenix feather core wand alone, you senile finger-painting.’

Salazar snorted and twirled his wand tip in front of his chest. ‘The wand motion’s like that. I assume you know the incantation?’

Harry nodded and cast the spell. His body shifted to mirror the background behind it, blending hues like a watercolour. He moved his arm. Its colour rippled like a reflection on water, lagging behind the speed of movement.

'Not a bad first attempt.’ Salazar peered down at him. 'You look like a very inexperienced, giant chameleon.'

Harry fixed him with a flat stare.

It will take a great deal of practice before you can cast it well enough to move normally with it on. That's as far as most wizards or witches can ever get.'

'So it's camouflage, not invisibility.'

'You aren't most wizards and witches.’

 _Another Heir of Slytherin reference is about to be made._ Harry knew the proud expression on Salazar Slytherin's face well enough. _Great. If only Tom Riddle could see this, he’d probably die of laughter… Or outrage_ _._

'You're my heir, not some lesser, _average_ wizard. You’re quite gifted and you'll do better in time. I have no doubt.'

_And there it is._

He slid his wand away and sat down on the floor in front of the portrait. ‘I can practice this by myself, then. Do you know anything else about the Room of Requirement?’

‘Not really.' Salazar threw his arms in the air. 'Only that I knew I would win in the end! Take that Godric and Rowena.'

'How did you win?'

'You're my heir. You found their secret room before anyone of their descent found mine.'

Harry laughed. 'You do know that when I pulled the Godric's sword out of the sorting hat I became his heir of sorts?’

'So?' Salazar froze mid-celebration.

'I killed your basilisk with it. Here. In my second year.'

The smile fell from Salazar’s face. 'Well that rather ruins the competition. If you're heir to both of us, despite Godric's claim on you being rather less firm than mine, then we both win and it's all null and void.'

_And now he’s sulking…_

'What was it like?' Salazar murmured. 'Were their portraits there? Godric’s? Rowena’s? Even Helga’s, maybe?'

'I don't know. I think the room changes completely based on what you desire. I'll see if I can find their portraits next time I visit.'

'It sounds like an amazing room.’ Salazar stared up through the roof of the chamber. 'I should like to try it myself, but I doubt it works for a shadow of life like me. Rowena and Godric always did come up with the most fanciful, spectacular things, of course most of them ended up exploding in Godric's face, but the ones that worked were truly amazing. Even I'll admit that they were the finest things any of us ever made, with the exemption of Hogwarts, of course. A school and sanctuary is magic of a different kind.'

'I've only seen the sorting hat and the room,' Harry said.

'There were several more. The diadem you might’ve heard of, that was Rowena's favourite. She pretty much claimed it as hers, though Godric never really complained. He was rather selfless.'

'I wonder if any of them are in the room.’

'The diadem was lost, sadly. Rowena's daughter stole it and lost it before she died. Silly girl.’ Salazar’s eyes darkened. ‘Rowena really wasn’t as brilliant a mother as she was a mage.'

_Another sad memory._

Harry frowned. 'What did Helga make?'

'She tried to combine enchanting with herbology. Plants were a hobby of hers. She liked looking after plants, creatures, and people. She's responsible for that ridiculously named species of magical tree.'

'Magical tree?’

'She took an innocent, elegant willow tree and turned into something much less admirable. She wanted to plant a whole forest of them to protect the school, but we intervened before she could cause a catastrophe. I think the species probably still exists, she grew and sold quite a few before people realised how large they would grow. I suspect they rapidly regretted planting them near their houses, or anything else for that matter. Horrible plants.'

Harry laughed. 'The founders are nothing like I imagined.’

'Of course we aren't. We founded a school. I'm sure all the headmasters tell you how perfect and well behaved we were. The truth is that even at the age of sixty Godric was more a child than anyone to ever walk these halls after him.' Salazar's eyes misted over. ‘Rowena might’ve loved logic, but she broke any rules she thought she was better than, and Helga had a real vicious streak if you upset her.’

'Tempus,' Harry murmured.

'Time to leave.’

'Yeah, I'll be back tomorrow.'

'You're not leaving before you've put me back up over the door in the study.' Salazar scowled. 'I refuse to spend any more time alone with that serpent, dead or not. You should milk her corpse, too. The venom is both very valuable and useful.'

'Fine.’

‘At least those rituals have helped me get a bit stronger.’ He picked his ancestor's canvas likeness up and carried it back across the bridge. ‘Carrying you isn’t quite as bad as it used to be.’

‘Carrying me is an honour,’ Salazar grumbled. ‘I’m one of the greatest wizards to have ever lived.’

‘That’s probably why this painting is so heavy, it’s your bloody ego.’ Harry ignored Salazar’s glare. 'Do you know anything that can be used to keep the venom from your former snake in?'

'Anything inert. It will only dissolve organic tissue or matter. There should be some crystal vials in one of the draws or lying around on the shelves opposite ladder.'

Harry grabbed a handful out of the top drawer, huffed the dust of them, and left to wrestle with the basilisk. _At least it will put up less of a fight this time._

Harry knelt down in front of its mouth and shoved it open far enough to get his hands in. ‘It could’ve swallowed me in one bite back then. It still could if it was alive.’

He reached past the teeth toward the venom sacs. _This is the part when I slice the gland open too far and dissolve one of my arms._

Harry cut a very small hole in the gland over the outstretched vial with his wand and watched the venom trickle into the crystal vial.

An uncomfortable, cramped series of seconds slid past until all four vials were full.

He left the venom to trickle down into the serpent and dissolve it, striding back into the study.

'Did you get any?' Salazar asked. 'You're still alive, so you didn't impale yourself on a fang.'

Harry held up the four vials of thick, viscous, clear venom.

'That's a lot of galleons you're waving around. Leave the venom here. It's very hard to come by.'

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Of course I’m leaving it here. I wasn't exactly going to leave it lying around in the dormitory for some idiot to drink by mistake.’

 _Neville would probably drink it, too._ Harry shuddered. _That would not be a pleasant way to die._

'That would be very thoughtless of you,' Salazar said. 'Horrible way to go. Makes some of the more morally questionable curses I've seen look kind. You'd sort of melt from within, I'd imagine.'

 _Lovely._ Harry abandoned Salazar to gory thoughts and headed back toward his bed.

Gryffindor Tower's common room greeted him a thick, heavy silence and the soft crackle of flames. Ron, Seamus, and a handful of the others who’d decided his shadow was too much for them sat in the sofas and chairs around the fire.

He spared them no more than a glance and made his way towards the stairs.

'Harry.' Ron's voice caught him with one foot on the bottom step.

They all came over to stand around the base of the stairs.

‘What?’ He twisted to face them, letting his wand slip down his sleeve to rest on his palm.

Ron's face contorted as if he was having problems breathing. 'Look.' He glanced round at the others behind him. 'I'm no good at talking things out, so I'm just going to be frank. I know this hasn't been easy for you and I'm not really certain you did put your name in the goblet. I'm angry with you, we're all a bit mad, but we know it's not really your fault. You always get dragged into this stuff and come out looking like a hero. I know you hate it, but it's hard for us to always be overlooked when standing next to you. We want a bit of that too, you know, and–'

'He's trying to say he's sorry,' Hermione said. 'He's done a rubbish job of it, because he still needs some time to come to terms with things, but he means it. We all do.' She fiddled with her wand. ‘We just want things to be back like they were last year.’

 _Back when you were better than everyone at everything._ Harry felt a tight, cold shard of ice freeze somewhere beneath his ribs. His thoughts came in Riddle’s smooth, high voice, but unlike his diary, Harry found no lies in it. _Back when you were certain you were needed and didn’t have to worry about actually being a good friend in order to stay one._

He took a deep breath. 'So this is an apology?'

His heart remained still and heavy. _I don't care._ The little ball of cold in his chest tightened like a vice. _It's too late._

'I'm not sure I care anymore.'

Hermione gasped. 'How can you say that?!'

'I opened my mouth, I remembered how I felt about having my entire house turn their backs on me, and I spoke,' Harry snapped. 'The only conversations I've had with any of you, have been to listen to your explanations of why you're avoiding me.'

'We made a mistake,' Ron muttered. 'You must realise what it looks like and how much pressure Angelina is putting on everyone with her grudge against you. Forget about all this. Water under the bridge. You forgive us. We forgive you. Friends again. Right, mate?'

 _But I don’t forgive. And I don’t forget._ Riddle’s whisper echoed up from the base of his skull. _They left me all alone. To be nothing. Like all those empty years in Privet Drive._

Harry tried to bury his thoughts, but the ice swirled through his blood. ‘Wrong, Ron. I don’t trust you lot anymore. You didn’t have my back when I needed you, I can’t rely on you to have my back next time, so I’ll make sure I won’t need you.’

'Fine,' Ron yelled. 'You selfish, pretentious git. Go and bask in your glory! I hope it was worth the deaths of your parents and the loss of your only friends!'

Harry's thrust his wand into Ron’s face. 'What did you say?' Parseltongue slid off his tongue like water off snake scales.

Ron went red and swung his fist. It caught Harry on the head in a hot flare and he stumbled back onto the stairs. His wand clattered to the floor.

Ron hurled himself on top of Harry, swinging his fists like an angry chimpanzee. Harry shoved Ron off and smashed his left fist into his stomach. Someone grabbed the back of his robes and his left arm, but he tore himself free and lunged for his wand.

White light seared his eyes and his wand shot away from his grasp across the room, slicing past Seamus' head.

It crunched into the hearth’s mantel. Splinters rained down onto the floor.

'Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry.’ Hermione stared at the pieces of his wand, her fingers pressed over her mouth. 'I didn't _mean_ to. I've been practicing the banishing spell and it was just the first one I thought of. I - I just wanted to stop the fight.'

Ice crept into Harry’s veins. _You were practicing it because you needed to be better than me._

He strode across the room and swept all the fragments into his hand.

'I didn't mean to do it, Harry,' Hermione whispered.

‘I don’t care.’ He clutched his handful of wand shards against his chest. ‘You still did it. We’re done.’ He searched for words to fit the fist of ice beneath his ribs. They welled up from the back of his head onto trembling lips. ‘I don’t need you anymore, Hermione. And I certainly don’t want you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	12. Renaissance

The pieces of his loyal, holly and phoenix feather wand lay scattered across Salazar's desk. Harry brushed his fingertips over them. Cold, smooth wood rolled beneath his fingers.

'They broke your wand,' Salazar hissed. _'Strike back!_ Take from them what they took from you!' Slytherin's wand fountained a stream of silver sparks. His snake reared and bared its fangs. ‘A wand is like a piece of you. They might as well have carved a chunk from your flesh!’

'I'm not going back. I'll never go back.'

Salazar released a long breath. 'Perhaps that is wise. I’ve always had a temper and a tendency to try and see others suffer the pain they’d inflicted on me. Revenge is the Ouroboros, never-ending and self-devouring.'

I'm done with trusting them, that's all the vengeance I'll take.'

'A bond for a bond. The friendship they held for the wand they broke. I suppose that’s fair.'

'You told me I would need my friends.'

'Individually weak creatures hunt in packs to bring down stronger prey,' Salazar said. 'You were weak, striving to become powerful. This is no longer true and you continue to grow. There are still many wizards and witches stronger than you, but few here at Hogwarts can threaten you, Harry. Even if you stand alone.'

'I don’t wish to stand alone.’ Harry stared up at a dust corner of the ceiling. ‘I was alone for a very long time before I came to Hogwarts. I don’t want to go back to that dark place.’

Salazar’s green eyes softened and darkened. 'Neither did I. I found equals who understood me. I built this school with some of them, and I would not be addressing my descendant if I had not one to spend my life with. You will be no different.'

'I need a wand,' Harry murmured.

'You do.' Salazar offered Harry a small, gentle smile. 'Think of it not as replacing your old wand and its bond, but forging a new bond for the wizard you will one day become.'

'You changed wands.’

'Twice. Once though my own foolishness and once from a loss such as your own.' Salazar eyed the sad remnants of Harry's wand. 'I burnt my mine to start anew, but perhaps you should take the fragments to whomever the best wand-maker is and ask about the subject. You might be able to keep an echo of your old partner with you.'

'Ollivander,' Harry muttered.

'What?'

'The name of the best wand-maker I know is Ollivander.'

'I know the name,' Salazar said. 'The family’s been crafting wands for longer than this school has stood. My final wand came from the hands of a member of that family.'

'I'll have to go to Diagon Alley.'

'Go now. The tournament must be soon approaching.'

Harry let out a short laugh. 'The wand-weighing ceremony is tomorrow.'

So go now. You can apparate. Nothing is stopping you. Go. And take a vial of the basilisk venom with you. A wand-maker is an alchemist. This Ollivander will appreciate the gift of such a rare substance if he’s worth his salt.'

Harry stepped around his trunk and plucked one of the vials from the desk.

'Take the fragments, Harry,' Salazar murmured. 'It’s worth asking, even if it comes to nothing, but do not come back without a wand. You have no time to wait.'

Harry picked up each splinter and placed them into his cupped palm. He took a deep breath, then in a disorienting whirl of the world, appeared in front of Ollivander's.

He patted himself down and glanced over each limb. _Nothing’s missing. Good._

Harry stepped into the shop.

'Mr Potter.' Ollivander appeared from behind a teetering stack of wand boxes. 'Of all the people to next set foot in my shop, I was not expecting you.'

'Mr Ollivander.' Harry edged out of the man’s path as he swept round behind his desk.

'I remember selling you your wand, Mr Potter. Even if I forgot every single moment one of my wands found its partner, yours would be the last of my creations to fade from my memory. Holly, a supple wand, I daresay, and eleven inches.'

'Not anymore.' Harry poured splinters onto the desk. Bright crimson beads welled up across his palm as he brushed them off his hand.

Ollivander’s pale eyes misted. 'It is a terrible thing, Mr Potter, to witness the destruction and end of something you have created. It does, however, explain why you have come.' He extended a long finger at the top of the vial sticking from Harry’s pocket. 'Is that basilisk venom, Mr Potter?'

Harry presented him with the vial. ‘It is.’

'I am not going to ask how you came by this, Mr Potter. I have heard rumours of the events of your second year. I'm not going to ask how you came to be here when you should be far away, either. I will ask if you are sure?'

Harry blinked. 'Sure?'

_Did I miss something?_

'When a wizard or witch brings me a magical substance to create a wand from for them, as some of the most dedicated to tradition do, I always ask if they are sure. It is not easy for one not very well educated in wand lore to make the best decision. We shall check, just in case.’ Ollivander bustled into the back of the store, then returned with what seemed to be a pair of silver scales. 'A little blood if you please, Mr Potter. You have my word as a wand maker, I don’t intend to do anything more with it.'

Harry extended his hand.

Ollivander pricked his finger, then squeezed. A single drop fell into one of the tiny silver bowls. He set it down, then unscrewed the vial and poured a single drop of the venom into the other bowl. 'The basilisk's venom will not be an easy thing to use as a wand core, Mr Potter. The venom consumes all that is alive, even the strongest wand woods. However, there are ways to counter its burn. Alchemy is an essential subject for a wand-maker.'

Harry stared on as Ollivander hovered over the small set of scales, tapping his long, thin, pale wand against them every few seconds and murmuring beneath his breath.

'Blood is a very potent magical medium, as all wizards know. It is easy to check whether your magic is strongly aligned to the substance, if you have the right tools and know-how.' Ollivander tucked his wand away. 'The brighter the blue, the better the match.'

Harry gestured at the pieces strewn on the desk. A slim golden strand protruded from one of them, like a string of flame. 'I was hoping I might not have to have a completely new wand. I gathered every splinter.'

The scales emitted vibrant, bright, blue light.

_That's lucky._

'Mr Potter.' Ollivander’s pale eyes focused on a point somewhere between Harry’s ears. 'If I did not know better, I would assume you to be competition for my role as Britain's premier wand-maker.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. _Definitely missed something_ _._

'Don't be modest, Mr Potter.' Ollivander smiled, revealing crooked, white teeth. 'We both know basilisk venom dissolves organic substances completely. You cannot wander into my shop with such a substance, carrying the pieces of your former wand, and request a new wand that is not entirely new, then expect me not to realise your solution.' He swept the pieces of Harry's former wand into his cupped palm. 'Perhaps this is not so much the destruction of your partnered wand as it is its rebirth. How very appropriate for a phoenix feather wand core.'

Ollivander took a firm hold of Harry's shoulder and ushered him toward the back of the store. A small crafting area lurked beneath towering shelves of wand boxes.

 _He’s stretched the space._ Harry mentally placed the size of the back of the store over the shop. _It’s three times as big in here as it looks from out there._

'I shall, of course, carry out your idea, ingenious that it is. I heard Gregorovitch once attempted something similar. His effort failed, but I feel this will work, and when it comes to wands, Mr Potter, feelings are everything.'

Harry watched Ollivander extract every piece phoenix feather under the assistance of a large magnifying lens. He fed them into the vial of venom with a pair of silver tweezers. Tiny streams of silver bubbles rose until the strands of feather were gone.

'Your finger, Mr Potter.' Ollivander set the same pair of silver scales down on the desk beside the basilisk venom and thrust a slim silver needle into the ball of Harry’s forefinger.

Harry frowned at the nip of pain, then dabbed the bead of crimson onto the scales. Ollivander dripped a droplet of the venom that now contained Harry's old wand core onto the scales and stared at them as if the meaning of life was reflected in their gleaming surface.

A bright blue flash stabbed at Harry’s eyes.

'Perfect,' Ollivander whispered. 'Your magic seems to respond especially well to a fluid core, Mr Potter. It flows within you. The effect of certain misunderstood rituals, perhaps?'

Harry met the man’s pale eyes, picturing the circle of dark ink on white parchment in the eye of his mind.

'Don't fear, Mr Potter. The Ministry disapproves of many things it feels might not suit its purposes or propaganda. I’ve no doubt that if they did not want wands for themselves, they’d label many of my techniques dark as well. You’ll receive no judgement from me. The only question I have for you is what wood should your wand be?'

Ollivander wiped the silver scales clean with a black cloth and placed them to one side. A piece of parchment covered in thin slivers of wood floated down onto the desk in front of them.

‘I’m not sure,’ Harry said. ‘Holly again?’

‘Perhaps,' Ollivander murmured. He extended a long finger at Harry’s hand. 'A third time if you would, Mr Potter. No need for blood this time. You will feel warmth from the wood that best suits you.'

Harry eyed the parchment. _Holly. Oak. Ash. Hawthorn. There’re more woods here than I’ve heard of._

Ollivander seized Harry's hand and pressed his forefinger against a sliver of holly. Ollivander's skin was as cool, soft, and papery as the worn pages of Salazar's oldest books. The piece of wood felt no warmer than Harry’s skin.

'Anything, Mr Potter?'

Harry shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

'If you are unsure, then it cannot be holly.' Ollivander’s silver eyes trailed down the parchment. He pressed Harry’s finger against the darkest shard of wood. 'Perhaps this one.’

Heat flashed through Harry’s fingertip.

He flinched away.

Ollivander smiled. 'Ebony, Mr Potter. Not such a far cry from holly, you know. They are both woods that symbolise protection, but where holly is associated with sacrifice, ebony is associated with power.'

The tape measures Harry remembered from before swept around the bookcase to envelop him in their grasp. They clicked and whirred as they swirled round him, covering what felt like every inch of his body.

'Eleven and a third,' Ollivander said. 'Best to be as precise and thorough as possible with a wand of such potential.’

Harry smile. ‘Thank you, Mr Ollivander.’

Ollivander’s white, crooked teeth gleamed back. 'This part, Mr Potter, you cannot witness, despite the ingenuity of your idea. All wand-makers must have some secrets.' He snatched the vial off the desk and vanished into the shelves, muttering beneath his breath.

A small thrill rippled through Harry. _I’ve just witnessed something almost no other person to come here has seen_.

Harry leant on the desk and read the labels off the tower of boxes. Bright, eldritch light flickered from somewhere on the far side of the shop’s back room.

 _Salazar’s going to be delighted my new wand isn’t phoenix feather._ He chuckled and shook his head. _I wonder if the senile old picture had the same argument with Tom Riddle._

'I took my time.' Ollivander appeared from behind a stack of wand boxes with all the warning of a particularly stealthy ghost. 'I could never rush a wand, let alone one like this.'

Harry clenched his jaw until the ice faded from his veins and his heartbeat stilled.

‘Ebony with a phoenix feather consumed by a basilisk’s venom. A subtle wand but one of great power and emotion. This wand will excel at anything you put your heart into.’ Ollivander presented Harry with a thin, long box just as he had over three years ago.

A long, dark length of wood lay inside. Warmth rushed from his palm to his shoulder as he touched the wand.

'Go on, my boy,' Ollivander whispered. 'Give it a wave.'

Harry twirled it in a small circle.

Another wave warmth ran over him from head to toe. Intricate patterns of frost spread across the floor from his feet.

Harry grinned. ‘It’s perfect.’

'The rebirth of a wand, Mr Potter,' Ollivander murmured. 'A beautiful thing. Something I never thought I would witness. I daresay I won't make a wand quite like it ever again.’

'I can’t give you enough to compensate for this, Mr Ollivander,' Harry said.

Ollivander shook his head. 'My wands cost seven galleons, Mr Potter, no more, no less. I would give you this for free, were ebony not so dear. I will likely never have the chance to create such a wand again. The venom you supplied is worth enough gold to buy you every wand in this shop.'

 _That’s a lot of wands… and gold._ Harry glanced around at the towers of boxes as he fished in his robes for the correct number of coins.

Ollivander tucked the galleons away. 'I have not sullied this wand by adding the Ministry's crude trace enchantment to it. Do you understand what I am saying, Mr Potter.'

'I do. Thank you.'

 _No more restrictions._ Harry’s smile turned thin and cool. _The Dursley’s are going to be very upset when they find out I can cast as much magic as I like now._

'Thank me by hurrying back to where you are supposed to be and trying a few of your best pieces of magic out before I see my work at the wand-weighing ceremony tomorrow.' Ollivander laughed a soft, dry little laugh. 'Who else would conduct such a ceremony?'

'I certainly can't think of anyone better.’

'You are too kind, Mr Potter.' Ollivander led him back to the front of the shop and ushered him out the door. 'Take care, Mr Potter. It is a long way for anyone to apparate, even for an emergency such as this.'

Harry took a deep breath and span the world back past him until he stood in front of Salazar.

‘Fuck.’ He poked at the soft skin where his left thumb nail ought to be. ‘Well, better this bit than anything more important.’

'Nails grow back,' Salazar said. 'It's a good trade for a wand.'

Harry rubbed at the skin covering the top of this thumb.

'You do have a wand, yes?' Salazar peered down at him. His serpent slithered up atop Salazar’s head and stared down at Harry, too. 'What is it?'

'Ebony, eleven and a third inches. My old phoenix feather dissolved in basilisk venom at its core.'

'He dissolved your old wand core in the venom and it worked as a new core?' Salazar stroked his chin. ‘Most intriguing.’

'He tested to see whether my magic was compatible with the venom and then with the venom with my old core. It was.’ Harry smiled. 'He thought this was what I wanted from the beginning. I was lucky to come away with it, I suppose.'

'Carry me outside and show me a spell,' Salazar urged. 'I want to see.’ He straightened up and gathered the serpent back off his head. ‘I mean that it's a good idea to familiarise yourself with your wand as quickly as possible.’

Harry hid his smile as he carried the painting over the bridge.

'Reducto.’ He whipped his wand in a sharp, small, sideways vee.

His magic leapt forward like an eager puppy, flowing like water, but as neat and fine as ink from the tip of a fountain pen. A flash of red light reduced one of the nearby serpent effigies into fine powder.

Salazar sighed. 'Stop breaking parts of my Chamber of Secrets.’

‘I’m going to fix it.’ Harry waved his wand at the dust and the serpent statue reformed. ‘You sound like an old housewife.’

Salazar crossed his arms. 'I’m Salazar Sytherin. One of the greatest mages to walk the world I do _not_ sound like an old housewife.’

‘If you say so.’

Salazar tutted. ‘How did the wand feel?'

'It's no stronger, but it feels right. Like I've been painting with my finger all this time only to finally pick up the finest brush.'

'More refined, then?'

'Ollivander said something about my magic flowing and reacting well to a liquid core,' Harry said. ‘He said if my heart was in my magic, this wand would always work well.’

'I've never seen a liquid core wand. They're supposed to be very hard to create without making the wand fragile. Such a shame I can’t take a look at yours.’ Salazar released a long sigh. ‘Try the disillusionment charm, that’ll be a better test of your control.'

Harry twirled his wand over himself and squinted his arms. 'I see no difference. I'm still camouflaged.'

'I do,' Salazar said. 'When you move your arms, your charm keeps pace, even with fast movements. A bit of practice and you'll be virtually undetectable.'

Harry slipped his new wand into his sleeve. Little rushes and jolts warmth washed through and up his arm.

'Don't put it away yet,' Salazar groused. 'Do something exciting with it! Test the limits of your capacity! Try that basilisk conjuration you showed me the first time you carried me out here.'

Harry grinned and let his wand slide into his hand. Heat vibrated through his fingers like a warm, summer wind through green leaves. He pictured the serpent rising from the waters of the pool and swept his wand up.

Every drop of liquid rose into the air. The conjured serpent swirled into the air over the bridge, coiling over itself, maw poised to strike, and every bit as large as the corpse lying on the ground.

A deep, throbbing ache tugged at Harry’s limbs. He resisted it for a minute longer, then the ache began to drag right at the core of his being and he slashed his wand forward.

The conjured basilisk crashed against the chamber wall like a breaking wave.

'Was that exciting enough?' Harry grimaced as the weariness settled into his bones. ‘It still took an awful lot out of me.’

'Very.' Salazar’s eyes were sparkled. 'Your control with that wand is superlative. No longer do you waste so much of your strength. You're going to be a very powerful wizard when you reach your majority, Harry.'

'I have to survive until seventeen for that,' Harry muttered

Salazar cackled. 'The Triwizard Tournament won't know what hit it. I hope there's a duelling event. You're a much more promising heir than Tom Riddle ever was. He was refined and oh so focused, but lacked your natural power. He must have undertaken many rituals after he left here to become so feared as Lord Voldemort.'

'I suspect you’re exaggerating.’

'I am, but I'm not lying. Tom Riddle was incredibly talented and very powerful, but so are you. You'll be the real Heir of Slytherin, _my_ heir, and I have every faith that you will outdo him.'

'I'll certainly have to try,' Harry quipped. ‘He’s not exactly going to just leave me alone.’

Salazar buffed his nails on his robes. 'Where now, back to your common room?'

Harry stiffened. 'I said I'd never go back. I meant it.'

'There must be other members of your house who were not involved?'

'I will wait for them come around as I initially intended,' Harry replied. 'I won't be returning to Gryffindor Tower any time soon, though.'

'Where will you sleep? I enjoy your company, Harry, but it's cold down here, even in the study.'

'The Room of Requirement, of course.'

'Oh, choose their room, why don't you,' Salazar grumbled. 'Some Heir of Slytherin you are.'

Harry chuckled. 'You're going back on the wall, then I'm going to go get some food. I haven't eaten since yesterday lunch and most of that ended up on the floor in here while I was trying to apparate.'

'Fine,' Salazar muttered. 'I want to see you again before the first task, though. I have a few things I should start teaching you. My fields of specialty.'

'Blood magic and parselmagic?' Harry raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t use those in the tournament without provoking a lot of questions and, well, I don’t want to follow in Tom Riddle’s footsteps if I can avoid it.’

'It's not evil.' Salazar sighed. 'You still have some preconceptions to lose, I see. If it reassures you, the greatest piece of blood magic I ever created is the parseltongue language you can speak. There's not really such a thing as parselmagic. I'll explain properly when I actually start teaching you. It’ll all make sense then.’'

Harry hung him back up on the wall over the study’s entrance. ‘Tournament useful stuff first, I think.’

Salazar shot him a wicked grin. 'If you do well at learning the arts the Heir of Slytherin ought to be paramount at, I'll show you how to take the anti-levitation charm off this painting.'

Harry smiled. ‘Well, how could I refuse such boundless generosity? He left the chamber to the sound of Salazar’s echoing laughter.

A still, quiet atmosphere rested over the Great Hall. Grey, autumn clouds drifted across a pale blue sky.

Harry took a seat at the end of the Gryffindor table and helped himself to some cold chicken.

 _That’s very very good._ He moaned under his breath and gulped down the rest of a breast and half a leg.

'I heard your wand got snapped, Potter.' Malfoy swaggered up to the table, an ugly sneer on his pale face.

Crabbe and Goyle grunted and cracked their knuckles, looming over either of Malfoy’s narrow shoulders.

Harry pulled his best smirk onto his lips. 'I see you took my advice, Malfoy. You should never leave home without your trusty lackeys.'

'I haven't forgotten that insult, Potter, and now you’ve no wand and no friends...'

A freckled hand came down on Harry's shoulder. 'I wouldn't say that.'

A second freckled hand came down on his other shoulder. 'He has just many friends as you do now, ickle Draco. Run along.'

'After all the trash you've dragged your name through, you still can't get rid of the blood-traitors, it's pathetic.' Malfoy swaggered off, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

_I don't think I've heard them ever actually speak._

'So, Harrikins.' The twins seated themselves either side of him, pushing him further along it. 'We heard you had a run in with some of our fellow Gryffindors.'

'We're sorry about that, Ginny is too–‘

'–but not as sorry as Ron was after our little sister finished with him, George. She hit him with so many hexes he had to go to the hospital wing.’

‘He's still there, Fred.'

'It was the first time I've ever seen Snape give points to Gryffindor, George.'

The twins refocused on Harry. 'Anyway, we just dropped by to say that we're working on Angelina and Alicia. It's slow, Angelina’s still right pissed at you and Alicia’s always followed her lead, but Katie's helping a lot.'

 _She wants something from me._ Harry’s thoughts spilt forth from the well of his mind in Riddle’s smooth, cool voice. _We're friendly, but not that close._

'We still have to keep our distance.’ George, or possibly Fred, stole a piece of chicken and grinned. 'But not as much as before. Either way, don't worry about slime like Malfoy.'

'He's probably more worried about having to compete in the tournament without a wand, Fred.'

'I have a wand. Thank you, though.'

The pair put their heads together. 'Where did you get a wand from, Harrikins?'

'From a wand-maker, of course.'

'Harrikins is getting smart, George.'

'We'd better watch out, Fred.'

Harry spotted the tall, dark-haired figure of Angeline drifting across the far side of the hall. 'Angelina’s coming, so you _had_ better watch out.'

Fred smiled and stuck both his thumbs up, 'Thanks for the warning.’

'Decent of you,' George said. 'This mess with Angelina won't last too much longer if we can help it. Gryffindor house will have your back like it’s supposed to.'

Fred lean forward. ‘Sorry for the wait, Harrikins, but all’s well that ends well.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	13. Thirteen Yellow Roses

A foul, grey sky loomed through small lead-edged window panes. Droplets of rain spotted the glass. The wind plastered a red leaf against the window, then snatched it away again.

 _Miserable weather._ Fleur slipped through the weathered, wooden door and cast a quick glance around the room. _As always._

Krum leant against the wall on the far side of the small room, his thick, dark brows stretched so far down over his eyes, she could barely see them. His robes were ruffled and spattered with mud along the hem. Karkaroff stood next to his champion, close-mouthed and rigid. One hand curled into his small, silver goatee, the other on his wand. His eyes darted to anyone that strayed too close to him or his charge.

Cedric Diggory, stood in the centre of the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. His schoolmate weathered the wiles of the reporter, Rita Skeeter. She’d drawn him into the only unoccupied corner, winding her peroxide blond curls round her finger.

 _Better him than me. Though she really should be speaking to the champions with a chance of winning_.

The boy’s face had set into the sort of effortless, charming smile Fleur normally found herself the target off. He nodding along to whatever the woman was saying, but never offered anything but that bright smile and a few vague words. Rita Skeeter’s bright, green quill hovered behind her shoulder, swaying, twirling, and twisting, often dipping toward her notes, but never getting so far as writing anything.

 _A Quick-Quotes Quill._ Fleur turned her nose up. _A_ _sure sign of the kind of reporter who likes to give their articles the sort of characteristic flourish that leaves the article's subject wondering just how their words have been so completely misrepresented._

Rita Skeeter’s eyes shone with glee, but her quill writhed in mortal agony.

Fleur spotted the tip of Harry Potter’s wand protruding from his sleeve, tucked alongside the inside of his palm. A faint glow emanated from its tip. A equally faint glint of amusement flickered through the boy’s eyes.

 _Well played, Harry Potter._ Fleur allowed him a fraction of a smile. _Girls who like to write lies about their betters deserve everything they get._

'I think it is time the ceremony began.' Albus Dumbledore pottered into the centre of the room. 'If you'd be so kind as to release our youngest champion, Rita.'

'Of course, headmaster.' She slid to the back wall and inspected of her notepad. Her face flushed puce and an ugly glimmer boiled in her eyes.

Harry Potter shot Rita Skeeter the same bright, brilliant smile when she glanced at him and her face wrinkled. Foundation smudged into thick lines along her forehead and stained the top of her collar.

'Let me introduce you all to Mr Garrick Ollivander, Britain's finest wand-maker.' Dumbledore stepped aside.

A tall, thin man with odd, silver eyes floated into the room. 'Ladies first, perhaps,' he suggested in a quiet, dry voice.

 _I intend to be first. As always._ Fleur stepped forward and handed him her wand. _Let’s see what this English wandmaker thinks of my wand’s core._

Mr Ollivander turned it over in his long, delicate fingers. 'Nine and a half inches of inflexible rosewood, but with an uncommon core.' He cast an eye over Fleur.

She tensed. _Here it comes._

'Veela hair, I would imagine.’ He twirled it in his fingers, glancing between her and her wand with a curious gleam in his silver eyes. 'A beautiful wand, both within and without. You have a strong bond with your partner, Miss Delacour.’

‘Thank you,’ Fleur murmured.

'Orchideous.' Ollivander conjured a bunch of bright yellow roses, then returned Fleur’s wand.

The thirteen roses fell to the floor as Fleur retreated to a spot on the wall beside Madame Maxime.

Cedric stepped up past her and passed over his wand.

‘Pay attention, Fleur,’ Madame Maxime muttered. ‘You can learns lots from a wizard or witch’s wand.’

 _I know._ Fleur brushed her hair back over her ear and cocked her head.

'Ah.' Ollivander smile a faint smile. 'I remember this wand. Twelve and a quarter inches long, ash, and still as springy as when it left my shop. You've kept your wand very well, Mr Diggory.'

'I polish it often.’

'As we all should.' Ollivander ran a finger along the length of the wand. 'A single hair from a very impressive male unicorn for a core.' He flicked the wand and a stream of burgundy wine fountained over the floor.

Fleur studied the yellow roses in the puddle of wine and wrinkled her nose. _This_ _wand-maker is beginning to make quite a mess._

'Mr Krum?' Ollivander beckoned the scowling Bulgarian forward with a long finger.

Krum thrust his wand at Ollivander, then stepped back, splashing through the puddle of wine. Crumpled, yellow rose petals stuck to the heels of his boots.

'Hornbeam, ten and one quarter inches, thicker than one usually sees, and quite rigid.' Ollivander tested its spring with pursed lips and a hint of a frown. ‘An interesting style of alchemy. Familiar to me, though.’

Krum nodded. ‘Da.’

'This is a creation of Gregorovitch. Judging by your age, it must have been one of his last.'

‘Da,' Krum said. ‘His apprentice sold it to me. One of last few left.’

'A very fine crafter of wands, Mykew Gregorovitch, with a knowledge of wand lore second to none.' Ollivander swept the hornbeam wand into the air. 'Avis.’

A small flock of white birds adorned with green and red bands across their wings flitted into the rafters of the room, chirping and chattering.

'Excellent.’ Ollivander’s eyes came to rest on the Harry Potter. 'And Mr Potter.' A broad set of crooked white teeth gleamed. ‘Last but not least.’

The boy slid his wand from his sleeve and passed it into the Ollivander’s long fingers.

Fleur caught a brief frown flitting over Albus Dumbledore’s as the fourteen year old presented his wand.

'A wand reborn,' Ollivander whispered, spinning it in his fingers. 'Ebony, eleven inches and a third, in such condition it appears it was only made yesterday.'

A ghost of a smile passed across the faces of both the boy and Ollivander.

'Perhaps my finest work,' Ollivander murmured. 'Certainly the most complex. The shards of the phoenix feather core of your first partner, consumed by basilisk venom. A liquid heart.'

 _The boy has had two wands?!_ _Only aurors and wizards with very dangerous occupations end up having more than one wand these days._ Fleur narrowed her eyes at the boy’s smile. _And a liquid core of basilisk venom…. The toxin should’ve melted the wood._

Ollivander’s smile spread wide. 'A bond that has survived destruction and risen again, stronger than almost any I have seen over the last fifty years.' He stroked a fingertip down its length as if he were caressing the cheek of his child. 'What has this wand seen?’ Ollivander closed his eyes. ‘Oh my…’

Ollivander slashed the wand through air at Harry Potter’s chest.

A twisting, writhing, silver serpent the length of Fleur's arm coalesced and coiled bout the boy’s shoulders, then faded away.

'Perfect,' Ollivander breathed.

Fleur tossed her hair. _Snakes are_ _one of the easiest creatures to conjure, but at least it didn’t make any further mess._

Dumbledore cleared his throat. His blue eyes remained on the boy, small lines creased his brow, but a hint of a smile curved his lips.

Fleur returned to the Great Hall on Harry Potter’s heels. _Should I try to speak with him?_ The boy slipped away from the group halfway there. _He probably wouldn’t have cared anyway._

Madame Maxime snapped her fingers. 'Come with me, Fleur.' She strode toward the carriage, glancing around into the nearby rooms and corridors. 'I trust you were paying attention to the ceremony, there was much to be learned about your rivals from it.'

'I was.’

'What did you deduce?'

'Cedric Diggory’s steadfast, hard-working, and honest, but while he is gifted, he does not seem an exceptionally powerful wizard. Viktor Krum’s powerful, stubborn, and unyielding. He will be my fiercest competition.'

'And Harry Potter?'

Fleur studied her fingernails. 'He is unusual. Ollivander seemed to favour him.'

'Perceptive as always.' Madam Maxime stuffed her huge hands into her pockets. 'I believe you are right about Hogwarts' original champion. Krum, though, has hidden depths, and judging by the spell Ollivander performed, excels in the air.'

'He is a quidditch seeker for his country.'

Madame Maxime nodded. 'Be wary of the Potter boy, Fleur. I have never seen a liquid core wand, nor do I know what it implies about his magic. However, ebony denotes power and having a basilisk venom core speaks for itself.'

'I will be careful of him.’

'He is unlikely to prove a rival being fourteen,' Madam Maxime said. 'However, he may provide one or two surprises that could harm your standing against the others.' She drew Fleur to one side of the path. 'The other champions will soon, if they haven't already, be told about the first task. This is to be expected.'

'Will I?' Fleur asked.

'Of course,' Madame Maxime exclaimed. 'I am… _stretching_ , the boundaries a little, but we are going to go get a glimpse of it now. Follow me, Fleur.'

 _Cheating, you mean._ Fleur pursed her lips. _I suppose if everyone else is doing it, I’ve no choice. I didn’t come here to lose._

Madame Maxime bypassed the carriage and strode into the edge of the woods that bordered the school.

Fleur pulled a face and picked her way through the mud. The heels of her shoes stuck and squelched. She shook her head, then pulled her wand out and transfigured it into firm ground.

Madame Maxime led her on. The trees grew thick around them. Dark, cracked pines thrust up into a thicket of dead brown branches needles. Brief flashes of green came through holes in the dead layer of the canopy.

_I heard there are all sorts of creatures in here._ Fleur kept her wand in her hand and peered into the shadows. _Acromantula, werewolves, centaurs, giants and worse_. _Perhaps the task is taking place out here?_

A wavering, reddish-orange glow flickered through the pines.

Madame Maxime drew her to one. 'As it is a little unusual for me to take you here, you should cast a disillusionment charm. I know you are adept at the spell.'

 _I wonder how you know?_ Fleur cast the spell. _I only told Gabby._

'Good.’ Madame Maxime closed one eye and gave Fleur a once-over. 'You've improved. Follow me.'

Waves of hot air billowed past Fleur with the flickering light. They caught her hair and turned the dew on her shoes and calves to steam.

Madame Maxime crunched through dead bracken toward a light gap in the trees and the source of the glow.

The hot wind turned sweltering as Fleur stepped through the tree line.

Four, massive cages dominated a wide patch of scorched brown earth dotted with charred tree stumps. White-hot flames billowed from the cages, leaving the bars glowing orange. Dark silhouettes curled behind them.

 _Merde._ Fleur tightened her fingers into fists to still them from shaking. _Dragons. I would’ve preferred the giant spiders._

Madame Maxime’s shadow vanished round the far side of the clearing.

 _Even my natural resistance to fire will not shield me from dragon fire._ Fleur edged a little closer to the flames. Rivulets of seat poured off her forehead and down her back. Her uniform stuck to her like a second skin. _I have a sleeping enchantment that ought to work on them, but I’ll need to make it a lot stronger to work on something their size_.

A red-scaled, snub-snouted dragon thrashed and spewed fire from the nearest cage, pressing its protuberant eye up between the bars of the cage. A gleaming, viridian green tracked Fleur round the side of the cage as its nostrils flared.

_It seems the tournament is picking back up from where it left things with that murderous cockatrice._

A shadow coiled in the furthest cage. Black, jagged scales gleamed beneath tattered, ebony wings furled around a serpentine body and a back and tail covered in cruel, curved spines.

_That’s a dragon to avoid._

Its head snapped round and Fleur found herself staring straight into a set of bright, yellow eyes. A wild, furious intelligence glowed in those golden orbs. Molten malevolence glowered out from beneath four, bronze horns. It hissed and lashed its tail through the bars, scoring a deep scar into the ground. Fleur glimpsed a set of barbed spikes as the dragon yanked its tail back through the bars.

 _Definitely a dragon to avoid._ She crept back from the glade, keeping well away from the circle of scorched earth and charred leaves.

Madame Maxime stepped out from behind a tree. 'What do you think?'

'I think whomever gets the black one is going to regret putting their name in the goblet.' She cocked her head. ‘If they survive it, that is.’

'The Hungarian Horntail. I’m not sure it's even tame, from what I was told by Hagrid and his dragon-keeper friend, they had to send a fourth on very short notice.'

 _So it's the boy's fault that thing is here._ Fleur muttered a few words her mother would’ve never expected to hear from her. _If I have to face that beast, I’ll hex him halfway to death afterward._

'Do you have a plan?' Madame Maxime asked.

'My enchantment, the sleeping one.’

'The one that makes use of your veela nature. A good plan, but I would have a back up in case they’re more resistant to magic than usual. Some higher classes of dragons have been known to be.'

'I know to go for the eyes,’ Fleur said. 'And I know enough curses and hexes that once I hit it, it will stay blinded.'

'Practice.' Madame Maxime strode toward the carriage. 'Do not mention the dragons, Fleur. I was not really meant to show you, even if the others will all know by the end of the day.'

Fleur returned to her room and dug out an old school book on magical creatures. ‘Dragons have few weaknesses, if faced with one it is best to distract it and flee. If fighting is the only recourse then its weak spots are the eyes and, on some weaker breeds, the softer scaled belly and armpits.’

 _That_ _ebony monster is probably not one of the weaker species_. Fleur shuddered. _It looked like it sprouted straight from one of Gabby's old nightmares._

Fleur snapped the book shut and stacked back in the pile on the shelf. ‘My enchantments will work. As always.’

 _The boy will not be likely to survive a tangle with one of those creatures._ A soft pang twisted in Fleur’s stomach. _He will probably abandon once his first attempts fail, it’s clear he’s not really interested in the tournament._

‘I have my own dragon to worry about.’ She tugged a sachet of hot chocolate powder out from under a book, twisted the top open, and poured it straight into her mouth. ‘Perfect.’ She let the warm, rich taste wash over her tongue. ‘I wonder if the boy will be able to resist the pull of the magic of my enchantment, too.’

 _Probably not. Only very powerful or strong-willed wizards could and my enchantment will be able put any dragon sleep._ Malevolent yellow eyes and a bone-barbed tail flashed through her mind. _Well, any dragon but that awful horntail._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	14. Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

Harry huffed a line of dust off the shelf of books beside the ladder. Odd, dust-free shelves scattered the circular library beyond the desk and a circle of his footprints ringed it wood floor.

Salazar pulled his snake away from over his eyes and yawned. 'It's today?'

'Yes.’

'I told you to come see beforehand so I could teach you things!' Salazar exploded into parseltongue, muttering curses so fast Harry’s ears couldn’t pick them out.

'I did. I'm right here.'

'I can't teach you right before the task begins. You'll need your strength for the competition and blood magic is demanding field. It's sacrifice based, after all.' The snake slithered around Salazar's neck and settled on his right shoulder.

'You can't even teach me about the theory?' Harry asked

'There's not much point, is there? Magic is best learnt practically and actively, not listening to a painting.'

Harry shoved Secrets of the Darkest Arts to one side and sat on the edge of the desk. ‘Well, we’ve got a little bit of time.’

'What is the task?' Salazar asked.

'I have no idea.' Harry shrugged. 'I think it's probably meant to be a surprise.'

'Where is your cunning?' Salazar threw his hands in the air, dislodging his snake. It let out a disgruntled hiss and slithered up his leg back to its perch. 'What kind of Heir of Slytherin are you? You should have gone and found out.'

'From where?' Harry asked. 'The big book of future tournament tasks?'

Salazar sniggered and pointed at the desk behind him.

Harry swivelled. An new, clean piece of parchment sat right on top of a stack of books, weighed down by a crystal vial. 'The big book of future tournament tasks…’

'You left that just before you arrived, said I'd understand in a short while.'

'I used the time-turner, didn't I?' Harry turned to look at the desk only to find the golden necklace gone. 'Where am I?'

'You said you were going to practice occlumency exercises,' Salazar replied. 'Read the rest aloud for me.'

'Dragons. Distractions work best. Don't ignore Katie.'

 _Bloody hell. Dragons._ Harry’s heart hammered against his ribs and his breath caught in his throat. _And I thought baby Norbert was bad._

'Dragons.' Salazar stroked his chin. 'Could be worse.'

Harry wiped the sweat off his palms. 'Dragons seem pretty bad.’

'Could be worse, could be another basilisk. A dragon normally attacks by breathing fire, which they can only do in one direction. That’s fairly easy to see coming. The stare of the king of serpents is much more subtle and deadly.'

'If I'm hit by the fire. It really won't matter.'

'You survived to warn yourself,' Salazar said. 'The plan must have worked and now you know it, because you will have done it, succeeded, and told yourself.'

Harry blinked. 'Run that by me once more.'

Salazar sighed. 'You left yourself a message telling you how to do the task after completing it. Just trust yourself and go with it.' He peered over Harry and frowned. 'What else does it say?'

'The small one bites.’

'I have no idea what you were trying to tell yourself. I hope it wasn't important.'

'I can't imagine leaving myself an ambiguous note if it didn't need to be ambiguous,' Harry said. 'Know anything about dragons?'

'I am _Salazar Slytherin_.’

'You only ever say that when you don't know,' Harry muttered.

'I wasn't stupid enough to ever pick a fight with one,' Salazar snapped. 'Avoid the fire, the claws, and the teeth. Their senses of smell and hearing are good, but not amazing, so once it's blind you can remain undetected if you’re careful.'

'Some of that actually sounded useful.’

'I hope the dragon gets you.’

'So do a lot of people, I reckon.' Harry bounced his wand on his palm. 'I'll have a think about what to do on the way there. The rupturing curse should work on the eyes.'

'A bit cruel,' Salazar said. 'But if it’s that or be turned into a small pile of ash…'

'I know.’ Harry sighed. ‘But if it works…'

'I suggest you try and use simple spells to find an elegant, easy solution,' Salazar said. 'Keeping your potential a secret is generally a good idea if you don't want to suddenly make a lot of powerful wizards and witches feel threatened.'

'An easy distraction and the rupturing curse, then,' Harry said. ‘No conjuring basilisks out of dragon fire.’

'If the simple stuff fails, don't hold back. Better to have potential enemies and be alive, than to be eaten by a dragon.'

 _A new motto for House Slytherin_.

'You don't seem very worried about your last living family member,’ Harry quipped.

'I know you survive. You're sitting in the pipes somewhere out there, after all.'

'I suppose.’ Harry turned it over in his head. ‘I guess the version of me to first undertake the task must’ve made such a mess of things he’d no option but to resort to this. That version of me won’t exist if the note changes things and so long as I remember to leave the note afterward myself, then the loop will close. Right?’

Salazar smirked. ‘Probably. There’s also a chance you make an even worse mess of things and have to do it all again.’

‘Maybe it’s best to just not think about it.’

'You should go,' Salazar said. 'Don't want to be late and miss watching the other champions try and avoid being toasted. You might pick up something useful from them.'

Harry hurried out.

 _Awful things happen to wizards who mess with time, Harry._ Hermione’s voice echoed up from only a few months ago. _I’m not listening to you anymore._

A large white tent surrounded by reporters and teachers squatted before a very Romanesque arena.

 _Best not to risk Rita Skeeter a second time._ Harry slipped round the back of the group and in through the side of the tent.

Cedric’s pale face jerked up to Harry. Krum brooded at one of the tent poles and the french witch leant against another as if she was waiting for someone to bring her a drink. Harry imagined that drink would be sweet, expensive, and probably had a fancy French name his aunt would completely mangle.

 _Should I warn them about the dragons._ He glanced at Cedric. _No. They wouldn’t have warned me, would they?_

'You're all here,' Bagman boomed.

A stern Mr Crouch hobbled in after him, Percy Weasley on his heels.

'Stick your hand in the bag to draw out your opponent,' Mr Crouch ordered. 'Your task will be to retrieve the golden egg from whichever creature you draw.'

_And there I was at the World cup thinking I would never be stupid enough to try and steal an egg from a dragon. Jokes on me, I guess._

'You first, Mr Diggory.' Bagman clapped Cedric on the back. 'Home team has to set an example.'

Cedric closed his eyes dipped his hand into the bag. It came out clutching a short-faced, silvery-blue dragon that twisted and hissed in his palm.

 _He doesn’t look very surprised to see a dragon._ Harry sensed foul play. _Well, now I’m glad I didn’t warn you._

Bagman gave Cedric a thumbs up and a huge grin. 'And you, Mr Krum.'

Krum stomped across and snatched a red, bulging-eyed creature from the bag. It prowled along the length of his palm, snorting small bursts of fire and stretching its bright crimson wings.

'Miss Delacour.'

_So that's her name._

The Delacour girl’s face was pale as Aunt Petunia’s precious pond lilies. Her fist came out clutching a green-brown dragon. She released a long sigh and the colour returned to her cheeks. The model dragon in her hand curled up and closed its eyes.

Percy turned and thrust the bag at Harry. 'Potter.’

Harry met his stare with Tom Riddle’s bright smile. Percy Weasley glanced away. Harry reached into the bag. His fingers met something warm and small. It wriggled. He drew it out of the bag to have a look.

The model was as black as his wand, covered in jagged scales and spines, serpentine, and furious. Harry watched it writhe along his palm, spitting small plumes of fire in every direction.

'So Mr Diggory gets the Swedish Short-Snout, Mr Krum the Chinese Fireball, Miss Delacour the Welsh Green, and Mr Potter has the Hungarian Horntail.' Bagman bounced on his feet. ‘How exciting!’

'We’ll proceed in that order,' Mr Crouch rasped. 'At the sound of the cannon you need only go through the entrance and the task will have begun.'

A dull boom echoed through the tent.

'I guess that means you're out preparation time, Cedric,' Bagman called. 'Go show them why Hogwarts has won this tournament the most times.'

Cedric shot the man a fiery look, then hurried out through the tent entrance. Ludo Bagman, Mr Crouch, and Percy Weasley slipped out through the side of the tent.

Harry eyed the dragon on his palm, noting the barbed tail. The tiny dragon stared back; it's yellow eyes bored into Harry’s. It twisted round and seized the tip of his finger between its jaws.

‘Bloody hell.’ Harry flicked it in the head until it let go.

_The small one bites._

The crowd roared from the arena and the enraged bellow of a dragon echoed through the tent.

'It seems a bit unfair we can't watch as well,' Harry muttered.

Krum chuckled. 'It would not be fair. Whomever went first would have a disadvantage.'

‘True.’

The cannon boomed and Krum straightened up. He discarded his model, gave Harry and the Beauxbatons witch a nod, then vanished.

_I hope he survives. He seems like a decent guy under all that scowling._

'Are you not nervous?' The French witch took a step toward him. ‘This is not a tournament for the average wizard or witch.’

Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

'I've seen that dragon close up when it was caged. I didn't want to be near it then. I certainly don't now.'

_Krum probably knew as well. Bunch of cheats._ Harry frowned as a little flare of ambition rose inside his chest. _Great. Now I’m starting to want to actually beat them._

'They're all pretty dangerous,' he said. ‘They _are_ dragons.’

'You are fourteen, Harry.' She tossed her silver hair over her shoulder. A strange little gleam appeared in her blue eyes. 'There is no way you could’ve learnt as much magic as us. We are the best of our schools.'

'I have no choice but to compete. Why fear something if fearing it will not help? I’ve never been all that great at being afraid, either. It just doesn’t seem to happen to me much anymore.' He searched his mind for her first name. 'I'm afraid I don't know your name.’

 _'Fleur Delacour_.' Her blue eyes narrowed. 'I will let you read it off the Triwizard Cup at the end, if you’re still alive.'

_Well, that seems like the end of that little chat._

The cannon thundered.

Fleur Delacour shot him a heated look and stalked out.

 _I feel sorry for the dragon._ _If it’s anything like the model, it probably just wants to sleep. Now it’s going to get more angry French witch than anyone deserves._

He let out a long sigh. ‘At least it’s nice and quiet.’

The long silence stretched on and on.

‘Maybe she got eaten.’ Harry bounced his model dragon on his palm until it hissed. ‘She’s probably already won, though, so she’ll be even more confident.’

The cannon boomed.

Harry flinched. The small dragon lashed out with its tail and stabbed him in the palm.

 _Infernal creature._ _If the real one is as bad this one, I'm not going to enjoy this at all._ He eyed the model and smirked as he strode to the exit. _Yes. I think you'll be coming with me_.

The tent opened into a short, rocky passageway. Harry followed it, hiding the hand he was holding the model horntail in and slipping his wand out of his sleeve.

A golden egg nestled on top of a clutch of large, dark dragon eggs. Bare rock stretched up to where the stands of the arena rose.

_Shouldn’t there be an angry, fire-breathing reptile?_

Harry glanced around the arena and took aim at one of the rocks. 'Reducto.'

It burst into sand.

A searing column of flame engulfed the innocent stone.

The dragon reared up from behind the rocks and spread its tattered wings over its nest. It scraped its tail across the rocks, producing a screech so loud it stung Harry’s ears.

 _Let’s hope this works._ Harry hurled the model dragon to the far side of the arena and took careful aim with his wand. _It’s going to take a lot of magic to make this small thing as big as the real dragon._

'Engorgio.’

The model swelled up to match the original dragon and roared.

The Hungarian Horntail whirled round and echoed the plastic model’s challenge. The crowd cheered.

'Confractio,' Harry whispered, aiming his rupturing curse for the real dragon’s eyes.

His first two attempts sailed between the dragon’s as they squared up, his third deflected off the real dragon's jaw, but his fourth struck true and blinded the creature on his side.

The horntail screamed and shook its head, spattering the ground with drops of steaming blood. It swung its tail round in a vicious arc, obliterating a small outcrop of rocks. Fragments of stone tore holes through the model’s plastic skin.

The model lunged, grappling with the original, and the two dragons crashed to the ground on the far side of the arena.

Harry crept toward the nest.

The model pinned the actual dragon beneath it, driving its tail through the tattered, leathery wing of its attacker. The original seemed dazed, but model’s claws and teeth weren’t leaving so much as scratches on the hard ebony scales of its throat and belly.

 _The moment it breathes fire, that model, then me, are going to be in trouble_ He snuck toward the eggs, watching the tail of the downed dragon scrape across the ground by the nest.

The real horntail curled its tail back on itself and impaled the model, then threw it away.

 _Now or never._ Harry darted for the golden egg.

The horntail unleashed a wave of white flames.

The model melted to ash.

 _That’ll teach it to bite me._ Harry felt the horntail’s yellow eyes focus on the nape of his neck. _Oh, bloody hell._ He grabbed the egg and ran.

The crowd gasped.

The barbed tail of the Hungarian Horntail slammed into the rocks beside him. Sharp pieces of rock sprayed past him, slicing lines of fire across his face, arm, and thigh.

Harry dived behind a large rock.

Blistering heat descended on him.

He hunched in and closed his eyes until the fire faded.

‘Ok.’ Harry stepped round the rock and met the furious glare of the sole yellow eye. ‘No more simple stuff, it’s fire basilisk time.’

Red light streaked down from above. The horntail wobbled, then thudded to the ground.

 _That’s lucky._ Harry bounced his golden egg in the crook of his arm and followed Mr Crouch’s arm toward the other white tent. _Whatever’s in this egg better be worth it._

Cedric lay on one bed. Bandages swaddled one side of his body. A thick, light blue liquid soaked them in patches; it smelt strongly of mint and steamed in the low light of the tent. A few scattered patches of pink marred Krum’s face and arms and his robes bore a few scorch marks and holes. The French witch leant against one of the poles.

_Not so much as a speck of ash on her. How annoying._

Harry gave them a wave. 'Nobody died, then!'

'It was touch and go,' Cedric replied.

Krum laughed. Fleur Delacour’s blue eyes bored through his.

'They will be doing your score,' Krum said. 'You should go look.'

Harry gave him a nod and vanished before Madam Pomfrey appeared and tied him to a bed.

Five judges sat in an elevated box overlooking the arena. Madam Maxime, the french headmistress, raised her wand and shot an eight into the air. A nine rose from Professor Dumbledore’s and a seven from the Durmstrang headmaster, Karkaroff.

'Bagman gave you a ten and Crouch gave you an eight.' Katie Bell edged round the corner of the tent.

 _She really wants something from me._ He turned away. _The note…_

Harry paused, then turned back round. 'Thanks. What’re they out of?'

'Ten, of course.' She beamed. 'You did really well, Harry. I’m not sure, but I think they only took points off because you stopped to watch the dragons fight and took a little longer than the Beauxbatons champion.'

'What did she do?'

'She sang something and then the dragon and every male in the audience fell asleep, even Dumbledore yawned. The judges all gave her nines except Karkaroff. He gave her an eight.' Katie scrunched her face up. 'All the guys seem to go weird around her. Except you, that is.'

'And the others?'

 _Fleur Delacour won this round, so I should lose graciously._ He wrestled with a tight knot and the memory of those blue eyes piercing his. _But I’m going to win the next one._

'Cedric did the worst. He transfigured a distraction and went for the egg, but the dragon got him with its wing and tail. You and Krum are equal. He blinded his dragon and collected the egg after it had flailed somewhere out the way, but lots of the eggs got smashed.'

Katie gave him a once over. 'You didn't get anything more than scratches, did you?'

'Nope.’

'That's impressive. Angelina was really impressed too, you know.'

A shard of ice tightened in Harry’s chest. 'I don't care what Angelina thinks.’

Katie shuffled her feet. 'She'll come to apologise soon. Like I have.' She gave him a rueful grin.

'Fred and George told me you tried to convince her to stop holding a grudge.'

'I did, but I still didn't speak to you.'

'You are now.’

'I guess I am. I was afraid you'd just ignore me. I think I would’ve been quite angry if you'd done that. _Hermione_ has been telling everyone how you've changed and won't forgive anyone. She's stopped a lot of people apologising.'

'I won't forgive them,' Harry said. 'But I won't hold a grudge or anything, I just know I can’t trust them next time.’

'And Angelina?' Katie asked.

'She was the worst in the beginning. Don’t think I don’t know _why_ everyone turned against me.’

'She was really jealous,’ Katie murmured. 'We all told her that she would get it and she got convinced, then everything happened and things got out of hand. I know you don't owe me anything, but would you consider giving her a second chance, if not for me, for the quidditch team. Gryffindor needs its seeker.'

'I'll listen to her if she comes to me, but that's all.'

'Thanks, Harry.' Katie stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him.

He stiffened, but she only tightened her hold.

 _I guess I should hug her back_. He folded his arms round her.

'That was nice.' Katie smiled. 'You're taller than you used to be.'

'I noticed.' He looked down his nose at her and grinned.

She shot him a mock glare and a wave as she wandered back towards the arena.

 _How did she even find her way up here?_ Harry glanced round. _You can’t see me here, so she must’ve waited. That was nice of her._

'Mr Potter.’ Madam Pomfrey’s heels echoed down the gap between the tents.

_Uh oh._

Madam Pomfrey wielded her wand in one hand and a bottle full of thick, sludge-like brown potion in the other. 'I do not remember telling you that you could leave my medical tent, Mr Potter.’

'You didn't say I had to stay either.’

'In.' Madam Pomfrey stabbed her wand at the tent. ‘Now.’

 _Some battles just can’t be won._ Harry hustled back through into the tent. _I had better odds against the dragon._

'What did you get?' Krum asked.

_Evidently nobody else has been told they can leave, either._

'Forty two points and a very stern lecture from Madam Pomfrey,' Harry said.

'You have the same score as me.' Krum nodded. A faint gleam appeared in his eyes. 'Well done. I did not expect it, but it is good to have competition.'

'I did the worst.' Cedric peeled some of his bandages off, revealing fresh, hairless, pink skin.

Fleur Delacour’s stare drilled into his forehead. 'Forty _four_.’

Cedric grimaced. 'Are you sure you don't want to be Hogwarts' champion, Harry? You got eight more points than I did.'

'It's just the first task.' Harry met Fleur Delacour’s stare.

She flipped her silver hair over her shoulder and turned away.

Madam Pomfrey bustled back into the tent. 'Drink this, Mr Potter.’

Harry eyed the brown gloop. 'But I barely even got a scratch!'

She thrust the bottle into his hands. 'When you've drunk it, you can all leave, Mr Potter.’

Harry groaned, then pinched his nose and gulped it down. Aniseed flooded his mouth and stung his nose. His eyes watered and he suppressed a gag. ‘That was awful.’

'Go on, then.' Madam Pomfrey plucked the bottle out of his hands. 'You'd think you'd be more grateful after spending so much time in my care every year, Mr Potter.'

Fleur Delacour and Krum drifted away toward the carriage and the ship.

'I want to sleep for a week,' Cedric said as they headed toward Hogwarts.

'We're excused from lessons, go ahead.' Harry grinned and tucked the egg under his arm. 'I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit as well.'

 _Occlumency exercises_. Harry snorted. _I'm going to use the time-turner to leave that note, then find a nice, wide point in the pipes and transfigure something into a bed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	15. Blood Magic

Harry crumped up the piece of parchment entitled _The Big Book of Future Tournament Tasks_ and lit it on fire with his wand. ‘Best there’s no evidence.’

‘Nobody else can see it, it’s down here.’

‘Fawkes got down here.’

Salazar rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll explain when you know more magic.’ He reeled his serpent in and coiled it round his arm. ‘Did you ever deduce the meaning of the message you just burnt?’

'I can guess.’

'Did you guess?'

'There were dragons, the tiny model dragon that was used to select them bit me, and Katie Bell, one of my Gryffindor house-mates approached me after the match.'

'The small one bites.' Salazar cackled. 'Why so ambiguous?'

'If I’d been forewarned too specifically the model would not have had the chance to bite me and I would not have been motivated to take it into the arena with me.' Harry shrugged. ‘If I hadn't told myself at all, I probably would’ve ignored it and missed how useful it ended up being. It had to be just right.'

'Very astute of you. It explains why you were grinning to yourself when you wrote the note, too.'

'I've never played a prank on myself from the future before,' Harry said. 'I found the concept quite entertaining.'

'So did Godric,’ Salazar muttered. 'Only he didn't have the decency to carry out his childish activities on himself.'

'What about Katie?' Salazar asked. ‘You’ve never mentioned her before.’

'I think she’d’ve been angry with me if I’d ignored her like I nearly did.’

'Important, is she?'

Harry shrugged. ‘She's a friend, I suppose. A team mate, really, but she stuck by me and tried to help.'

'Don't want her changing her mind and undoing everything she did.' Salazar nodded. ‘An equal, maybe?’

The snake mimicked the motion, then stuck its tongue out alongside the inside of Salazar’s palm.

Salazar fidgeted, the itched at his palm. ‘Wretched reptile. I wish I’d decided to make you part of the design of the frame of this painting instead of put you in here with me. You can’t even talk!’

‘Why not?’

‘The snake has to be smart enough. While I enchanted the painting to be a sort of copy of myself, this useless scaly worm is just paint and canvas charmed to act like a snake.’ Salazar unwound it off his arm and draped it over his shoulders. ‘Grab that book off the shelves behind you.’

Harry stared at the hundred or so books on the shelf. ‘Which book? The small one?’ He squinted at the title. ‘ _A thousand snake puns?’_

Salazar coughed and turned a little pink in the face. ‘Not that one. _My_ one. _Writing in the Elixir of Life._ ’

Harry ran his finger along the titles. ‘This is the biggest book in the library.’

‘Second biggest.’ Salazar pointed his wand into the far corner. ‘Rowena wrote a treatise on Arithmantic principles in Potions that’s an extra ten thousand words longer.’

‘Well, I’m not reading that.’

Salazar chuckled. ‘I didn’t either. Rowena knows her stuff, but her writing was always very matter-of-fact and dry.’

‘Not like Salazar Slytherin’s bestseller, _A Thousand Snake Puns._ Don’t think I didn’t see the name of the author. _’_ Harry caught a fair few choice words in parseltongue as he dragged the ancient, leather-covered, heavy tome.

‘Just take me and the books outside.’

Harry levitated a stack of tomes off the desk and lifted the portrait off the wall to carry Salazar out into the main chamber.

'Now I can finally teach you about the things I was exceptional at!’ Salazar’s wand spurted silver and green sparks over the head of his serpent. ‘Naturally, as my heir, you’ll be exceptional at them, too.’

‘Naturally.’ Harry leant the portrait against the foot of one of the serpent effigies and took a seat on the floor in front of the painting. ‘So?’

'Where to begin?' Salazar muttered, rubbing his palms together. ‘Where to begin?’

'The basics?' Harry suggested.

Salazar’s face fell. 'Fine.' He sighed. 'It will an age to get to the exciting things, but I suppose it's better than you accidentally destroying the chamber… or yourself.’

Harry groaned. ‘This is going to be a really dry conversation, isn’t it?’

‘Blood magic is any magic that uses blood as a medium or tether, but due to its potency and complexity, it’s mostly just used for sacrificial and ritual magic,' Salazar said. 'The only real rule for sacrificial magic, is that whatever you sacrifice must be equal to whatever you are trying to achieve.'

'That's it?'

'Of course that isn't it! Sacrificial magic is a very subtle, delicate thing. It requires a full, true understanding of magic and self. You cannot really sacrifice something when you do not know its value, nor can you attain a result you do not already understand the implications of.'

'What can I actually do with it?'

'Anything and everything,' Salazar said. 'Parselmagic is merely an example of complex blood magic, that is to say sacrificial magic in which blood was used as a medium and as the anchor of the magic. This chamber, the thoughts of sufficiently intelligent serpents, and our magic, are all bound to the blood that flows in my veins and thus in yours. It’s perhaps my finest creation. The ability to speak to animals was once more common and applied to more than just snakes, but over time it was lost. The last witch recorded as being capable of speaking to animals died half a millennia before I was born. I attempted, originally through other means, but eventually through blood magic, to recreate part of what was lost. I was not prepared to sacrifice anything more than I did, so my piece of magic only responds to serpents as they are easily summoned.'

'What did you have to sacrifice?'

'Something that was of equal value to me. Someone, to be precise.'

 _Someone?!_ Harry felt ice form in his veins.

He stared at the painting. 'You sacrificed a person!?’

'She was dying already! We sacrificed the little time we had left together, much as it meant to us, to create something that would aid and set apart our children and their descendants for as long as they survived.'

'Sorry. I should’ve known better than to assume.'

'Yes you should have,’ Salazar snapped. 'You do not understand the magnitude of the sacrifice. Even I didn’t until after I’d done it. I and my daughter searched for many years for an artefact rumoured to be able to cheat the laws of death and enable us to speak with her again. I never found it. I was forced to give up when I became too old hunt for it, but my daughter had not before I died. It is possible she was successful, but I would not know either way. That sacrifice defined the rest of the lives of myself and my daughter in one way, then the rest of our descendants in another. If you take anything from that, then realise the kind of effect blood magic can have.'

'How does it work?' Harry asked.

'Blood is the most potent magical medium, personal and puissant. Blood magic makes use of it as a conduit through which to perform otherwise impossible feats.'

_Something impossible?_

Harry traced a finger down his scar. 'Like surviving the Killing Curse, perhaps?'

'There are very few pieces of magic capable of achieving that.’ Salazar stroked his chin. 'The Killing Curse is not a simple spell. It is a derivation of one of the only other fields as powerful and complex. Blood magic could be used, but it would come at the cost of the caster's life, or more, rendering the protection irrelevant.'

'But you could cast it to protect someone who shared your blood?'

'Perhaps... It would not be easy, but it’s a fascinating idea. I think to make a whole bloodline immune to such a powerful curse would cost more than anyone has to give.'

'I survived it,' Harry said. 'When I was a baby, Voldemort came to kill me. He managed to murder my parents, but his intended final victim reflected his curse back onto him.'

'That could well be blood magic,' Salazar said. Perhaps they only afforded you that protection. It would reduce the sacrifice to a level that would be possible to make, though it would have still been very dear indeed.'

‘They did die.’

Salazar’s brow creased and he stroked the head of the snake that curled around his shoulders. ‘I would guess they carried out a blood magic based piece of sacrificial magic that would come into effect should they both die to keep you safe. Your safety from this attacker would be the goal and it would certainly constitute as a sacrifice dear enough to protect you.'

'It lasted at least as long until I was eleven,' Harry replied. 'When Voldemort tried to harm me in my first year here, he burnt at my touch.'

'It may still be in effect now. Your parents sacrificed their lives and every moment they would have spent with their child, there is little of greater value to a parent.'

'I'd rather not need it.’

'You will not,' Salazar said. ‘But it is a powerful advantage while it lasts. The magic will protect you in anyway it can as long as it lingers in your blood. Still, it goes without saying that you should avoid lethal spells, especially the Killing Curse.'

'Why especially? Dead is dead.'

'Most lethal spells are really no different from other curses in that they just cause something to affect you. In the case of most lethal spells the effect is what truly kills you and effects like that can usually be prevented in numerous ways. The Killing Curse is derived from soul magic. It literally tears your soul from your body. The curse kills you outright rather than causing or creating something to do so, there’re very few ways to stop it. In fact, I can’t think of any.'

'Soul magic?'

'Not something I ever more than dabbled in. It’s the equal of blood magic in some ways, but far more abstract in its concept and very dangerous because of it. I know of few uses for soul magic worth their cost. The Killing Curse is one of the few soul magic spells that has no _permanent_ effect. Using it causes the soul to fracture, but over time, in the right conditions, a soul can heal. If you are interested, there is a very old Egyptian book in my study. It's hardly a guide to the field, but the wizard referenced in it, Seth, is attributed with the first use of the Killing Curse. He was likely its creator.'

'The name sounds familiar.’

'You might have heard it in the muggle world. The muggles of Egypt used to us that name for their God of murder. Whether there's a connection is unclear.'

_All things considered, it seems likely._

'Did you bring all the other books I recommended to you before?' Salazar asked.

'Yes.' Harry named them one after the other, descending down the stack. ‘See?’

'The Secrets of the Darkest Arts?'

'I didn't mean to bring that.' Harry stared at the weathered book and the sheafs of parchment wedged within the pages. 'I must’ve stacked the other books on top of it in the study.'

'It probably has something useful in it. Blood magic is powerful magic and powerful magic has always been used in questionable ways. The element of sacrifice doesn't help its reputation any.'

Harry studied the neat, flowing script on the parchment that stuck out of its pages. _Riddle’s handwriting._

'I'll read it last,' he said.

'Take them to the Room of Requirement after this tournament meeting you have to attend,' Salazar suggested. 'Just make sure you aren't seen reading them and bring them back to the study afterward. Most of those books were old and valuable when I bought them; they'll be worth a fortune now.'

Harry cast a quick time-checking spell only to find that it would soon be time for the meeting. _How does he even know what the time is?_

'There's nothing else I can teach you until you've read those and understood the two principles of blood magic and their applications. It isn't a pure subject like transfiguration, but it can be used to augment or create wards, enchantments, and many other such areas.'

Salazar groaned and screwed up his face. 'I just quoted _Godric_. He used to go on and on about how blood magic wasn't really a field in its own right. Oh I bet he’s giggling away in the afterlife right now, the overgrown child.'

Harry carried the portrait back, shrank the books and stashed them in his pocket, then swiped his golden egg of the study desk.

Salazar’s grumbling followed him all the way up the stairs to Myrtle’s bathroom.

 _He’s probably still going now._ Harry hurried toward the classroom for his tournament meeting. _As long as he’s not going when I get back._

'All our champions are here!' Bagman swung his legs off the edge of a desk. The black and yellow robes of his old beater’s shirt were tight over his belly.

Mr Crouch frowned and tapped his pocket watch. 'The first task is over. You have each obtained the golden egg your dragons were guarding and achieved a score for your methods.'

'Some of which were spectacular.' Bagman stuck both his thumbs up at Harry and grinned.

'The egg is your clue for the second task.’ Mr Crouch paid Bagman no heed. ‘Solve it.'

Harry examined his egg, turning it over in his hands. _I'll have to try opening it. It’s an egg, so it makes sense the clue would be inside_.

Cedric bounced his egg in his hands and Fleur ran her wand tip over hers.

Krum scowled and gave his a shake. ‘Well, it does not rattle, so at least it’s not more broom polish.’

Harry snorted. ‘If it sprouts wings and flies off, you can borrow my Firebolt.’

Krum grinned and gave Harry a once over. ‘You have Firebolt? Seeker, yes?’

'Well, unless any of you have questions this meeting is concluded.' Mr Crouch slipped his pocket watch back away and strode toward the door.

'Harry.' Bagman caught his arm at the door. 'If you want a hand with the egg just give me a shout,' he whispered. He walked away with a wink.

Crouch cut him off with a stern expression and the two held a furious, muttered argument on one side of the corridor.

Harry cradled his egg beneath is arm and set off in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

‘Hey Harry.’ Ginny sidled into his path.

'Ginny…'

‘Er…’

'You stopped me,' he said.

'I know.' She flushed. 'I wanted to say sorry.'

'A lot of people have been from what I've heard.'

'A lot of people didn't want to try and stand up to Angelina and all the seventh and sixth years.' Ginny squirmed. ‘Sorry.’

'Angelina’s having a change of heart, apparently.’

Ginny’s eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. 'Katie said that, did she?'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'She did.’

'I didn't turn my back on you. I just didn't want to suddenly act all close with you, because – well, because I was afraid you'd think I was just trying to get close to you.'

'You should have done. I probably would’ve noticed, but I wouldn't have minded all that much.'

'It's too late, isn't it.’

'Sorry. If it helps, I'll accept your apology.'

She smiled. 'I'd like that. I was hoping to be someone better this year, not just Ron's little sister who got into trouble and needed rescuing.'

'You succeeded.’ Harry shot her a grin. 'I haven't seen you stick your elbow in a butter dish in years.'

Ginny went bright red and covered her face with her hand. 'Oh no. You saw that.’

'I tried not to laugh.' He let the smile slide off his face. 'I'm not the same boy who rushed down to the Chamber of Secrets after a basilisk to save you anymore, Ginny.'

'I know. I don't think you were ever really the boy I couldn't be in the same room as without hiding. Hermione said you'd changed.'

'She's right.’ A little ice crept into his tone.

She winced. 'Touchy subject.’

'You wouldn’t be fond of the witch who broke your wand, either. I heard what happened to Ron.'

'He was being an idiot.' Ginny scowled. 'He still is.'

'Still?'

_I’ve not seen him for a while, actually._

She shook her head, sending her long, red ponytail swaying behind her. 'He and Hermione have some ridiculous theory that something happened to you at the World Cup. They think you were hit by some dark curse and that its affected you in the head.'

Harry laughed. 'Does anyone actually believe that?'

'Seamus and Dean, but a lot of the house is just sick of the whole thing now. Most are just avoiding anyone involved or waiting to see who turns out to be right. Neville still hangs around Ron and everyone, but it's because he hasn't got the courage to go make other friends.'

Harry smiled. _Now the shoe’s on the other foot. Serves them right._

'They do deserve it.’

The Great Hall started to fill with people as lunch drew near and Harry began to shift restlessly from on foot to the other. ‘Was there something else?’

Ginny shuffled her feet. 'I was hoping you'd come eat lunch with us.’

‘Us?' Harry frowned. ‘A lot of your friends might not be so keen about that.’

'Me, the twins, a few others.’ Ginny’s lips thinned into a pale, rose line. ‘Katie will be there.’

'I have to go play with this thing.' Harry tapped the top of his golden egg. A clear, ringing sound came from his clue.

'I see.’ Ginny’s brow wrinkled, then she sighed. ‘Well, I hope the second task goes as well as the first.’

_It has to go better. I’m not going to beat Krum or that French girl if it doesn’t._

Harry slipped through the Great Hall and made his way up to the seventh floor and the hidden room opposite the tapestry of tap dancing trolls.

 _I need somewhere to solve the clue of the egg._ He focused on his desire and waited until a door appeared.

A simple, plain room lay beyond. The carved half-fish, half-human forms of some creatures wielding tridents swam in excited shoals over a stone bench, scattering when he approached to sit. A small bubbling pool commanded the room’s centre.

 _Not quite what I expected._ Harry glanced round the room and down into the clear water. _Clearly this room has some nuances I’ve not quite grasped._

He sat down and turned the egg over in his hands, looking for a catch or clasp. Harry tapped it with his wand, and it split in half.

A piercing shriek tore through the air.

Harry slammed the egg shut. _Some clue that is!_

He took a deep breath. ‘Stupid egg. I hate loud noises, especially unexpected ones.’

The mermaids on the bench gestured at him, waving their tridents in the air.

 _Blood magic first. It’s ages until the next task._ Harry dropped the egg on the floor and swung his foot at it.

The egg rolled across the floor and teetered on the edge of the bubbling pool. Harry ignored it and pulled out his stack of books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	16. One Flew Over the Owlery

Condensation blurred the grey sky through the window, it trickled down the glass, over the white painted window sill, then dripped down onto the blue carpet. The cold seeped in from outside like the condensation through the carpet.

Fleur swirled her mug and cast another warming charm. Steam rose from the damp patch beneath the window. _The more it hurts to have, the more satisfying it’ll be to get it._ She dropped another sugar cube into her hot chocolate and watched it melt away. _And I will win._

A heavy hand pounded at her door.

Fleur grimaced, tossed her blanket onto the bed, and picked her wand up. ‘Who is it?’

'I would like to discuss the first task with you, Fleur.’ Madame Maxime’s low voice echoed through the door.

Fleur pulled the door open. 'You were not happy with my performance?'

'You performed perfectly. As always.’ Madame Maxime’s broad face shifted into a smile, then slipped back to a mild frown. 'I would like to discuss the other champions and their methods, as you didn’t get to observe them first hand, I thought you might find it useful.'

Fleur nodded and leant on the edge of the door. ‘It sounds like a good idea, madame.’

_I would very much like to know how the boy evaded that feral monster of a dragon._

Madame Maxime eased the door open with one finger. Fleur stumbled back, then settled back into her seat, sipping the warm, rich, sweetness of her hot chocolate as Madame Maxime squeezed herself into the other small chair.

'The Hogwarts' Champion, Cedric Diggory, was the first to compete,’ Madame Maxime. ‘His plan was commendable, but not carried out effectively. However, he displayed some advanced transfiguration and it would be wise to assume he is equally proficient in other subjects.'

 _An exceptional student, but no more than that._ Fleur took another sip of her hot chocolate. _One of those boys born into a good family with good looks and good brains, but no friction to give him the drive to win._

'I do not think that the Hogwarts' Champion will be your main source of competition,' Madame Maxime said.

Fleur nodded and sipped her drink. ‘I agree.’

'Viktor Krum, too, displayed some proficiency.'

Fleur suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and took another drink of hot chocolate. _Of course the boy will be last, even when he is not here, he finds some way to be annoying._

'Krum used the Conjunctivitis Curse to blind his dragon, his casting was very swift and accurate, but his plan did not account for the damage the injured dragon would do. Durmstrang's Champion is clearly a powerful and accurate spell caster, but lacks foresight. He is a dueller and a flyer, not a planner, but he will prove a strong rival in any task Karkaroff can help with the planning.'

Fleur put her mug down and leant forward. 'And Harry Potter?'

Madame Maxime smiled. 'He cheated. He took the model dragon and used a very powerful enlarging charm. The Horntail fought the model and while it was distracted Mr Potter used the Rupturing Curse to blind the eye on his side. The model, for all its enchantments, was only plastic and didn't last long, but the boy stole the egg in the gap.'

'An enlarging charm…' Fleur frowned.

Madame Maxime tapped her fingers on the table. 'Disappointed by his simple solution?'

Fleur swirled the hot chocolate in the mug. 'No. If it works, it works.'

'Jealous, then?' Madame Maxime asked.

'It was a good solution, but only for this exact situation. I doubt he is capable of creating the enchantments that were already on the model like I can. And even if he were, almost any magic would be able to defeat such a creation. It is impossible to create something capable of using magic as a witch or wizard does.'

'You must look deeper than his solution.' Madame Maxime tutted and pushed Fleur’s mug to the side of the table. 'The scale of the enlarging charm indicated surprising magical power for a fourteen year old, equal or better than any other champion, including yourself. His knowledge and use of a curse considered dark is also very interesting. Albus Dumbledore would not consent to it being taught here, so he must have another source of counsel. And at the end, when the dragon had him cornered, he stepped out to face it head on with no fear I could see.'

 _So he really wasn’t afraid._ Fleur studied the polished rosewood of her wand. _Interesting. I thought he was just trying to impress me._

'You’re impressed with him,’ she said.

'Indeed I am.' Madame Maxime placed her palms flat on the table. The chair groaned beneath her as she leant forward. 'There is something different about him. I’m sure you noticed it in your observation of you rivals.'

 _So she knows about that, too._ Fleur met Madame Maxime’s dark brown eyes, then glanced at her hot chocolate. _Perhaps she’s just guessed from my absences and my knowledge of the disillusionment charm._

'I might have,’ she said. ‘

'He does not react to the allure in your magic, does he?'

Fleur scowled. 'No, he didn’t even notice me until the first task.'

Madame Maxime smiled. ‘I thought so. He is most curious. Openly using a curse such as the rupturing curse, brazenly cheating, and most of all, at the end, for an instant I thought I sensed a spell.’

Fleur’s lips twitched. _If only I could’ve watched. I would’ve been able to sense much more than you, despite your heritage._

‘What kind of spell?’ she asked. ‘What did it feel like?’

‘It was just a feeling,’ Madame Maxime said. ‘Like a fingertip sliding down my spine. And I only felt it for a moment.’

‘But if _you_ felt it.’

Madame Maxime’s eyes narrowed a fraction. ‘I may not be gifted with the deftness of your family, Fleur, but I didn’t need it to sense that magic. If the horntail had not been stunned by its handlers, I think we might’ve seen something spectacular.’

Fleur dragged her hot chocolate back over and took another sip. _Cold._ She tapped the mug with her wand until spirals of steam rose from the dark liquid. _Much better._

'He is not to be underestimated,' Madame Maxime said. 'You cannot beguile him with the allure of your magic without capturing every eye in the room, he appears to be much more powerful than we suspected, and he knows and has used at least morally questionable curse.'

'I will not. I have met many boys who can resist my magic to begin with. They crumble when I actually exert some focus or intent upon them, all I’d need is a moment in the tournament when nobody can see.'

 _It’s not cheating._ Fleur’s stomach knotted itself tight. _But it’s not how I want to win, either. I won’t and shouldn’t have to do that._

'Perhaps,' Madame Maxime said. 'I must insist you be wary of him all the same, though. He has cheated already, he might do so again and in a less benign fashion. It was his breaking of the rules alone that cost him the points that would have placed him first. If he had had the presence of mind to summon the toy from the tent, you’d be second.'

 _What?_ Fleur stared into Madame Maxime’s eyes, but found no hint of a lie. _She’s not trying to motivate me. She genuinely thinks that._ Fleur swallowed down a bitter taste and a flare of heat, feathers prickled beneath her skin. _I got beaten by a fourteen year old. Unacceptable._

'I do not know the mind of the boy at all well.' Madame Maxime squeezed out of her chair and stepped to the door in a single stride. 'But he has unsettled even Albus Dumbledore.'

 _He looked as proud as he did concerned._ Fleur closed the door behind Madame Maxime. _Still, in essence, he won, and it would be silly to assume he’ll make another small mistake again._

She gulped down the last of her hot chocolate. ‘He will be as much a rival as Krum, only he has the advantage of no expectation.’

 _Dumbledore must’ve put him in the tournament._ Fleur tapped her mug with her wand and set the clean china piece down on the bedside table next to a slim envelope. _A good way to help him grow. It will hurt him, but like me, he’ll get stronger because of it._

She snatched the letter to Gabrielle off her bedside table and tucked it down the front of her blue robes.

Casting the disillusionment charm she snuck out of the carriage, slipping between Caroline and Emilie when they opened the door.

Fleur trudged to the top of a grey, dreary tower that rang with the hoots and screeches of owls. A room of thick, wooden beams and worn perches waited beyond a small, battered old door. Sour bird droppings and dry must hung like smoke.

 _Beauxbatons’ Birdcage is far more elegant than this dirty old attic._ She sniffed and tip-toed into the centre of the room. _But at least there’s nobody to ask me to be their Yule Ball date up here._

'That is a _very_ good disillusionment charm.' A half-familiar voice echoed from the door, carrying with it a hint of admiration and amusement.

_Merde. Of course, he notices me when I am invisible. What a vexing boy._

Fleur dispelled the charm. ‘Merci. How did you notice?'

'Miss Delacour.' His eyes flicked past her to the owls. 'I’m aware of the weaknesses of the charm and thus capable of recognising it.'

Fleur’s gaze dipped to his empty hands. 'What are you doing up here?'

Harry Potter raised his eyebrows and glanced around the room. 'Sending a letter… As I assume you are, since this isn’t the most scenic part of the castle. '

'No I’m not.' Fleur sighed. 'I have no owl.'

His brow creased. 'Perhaps I could offer you the use of my owl?'

Fleur wrestled with her pride. 'Didn’t you just send a letter?'

'I was sending a letter to my godfather. For one reason or another I’ve not been able to contact him until now, but he sent his own owl and I returned my letter with it.'

'I didn’t realise you had a godfather.’

'Not many do.'

He edged past her, leaving an arm’s length between them. Dust covered the back of his robes as they brushed against the beams.

 _That was nice of him. Most men take any chance to brush against me._ Fleur pulled her wand out of her sleeve and vanished the dust. _There, now we’re even._

‘Thanks,’ Harry Potter said.

A beautiful, black-speckled, snowy owl perched by the window in the far side of the tower top. It shot Harry a full glare, then swivelled its head around to look in the other direction.

He laughed. 'Don't be like that, Hedwig. I was going to give you a letter to deliver on behalf of an acquaintance of mine.

 _An acquaintance?_ Fleur found the taste of the word bitter. _I suppose I am, but most boys would call me a friend to my face. Does he not care what I think at all?_

Hedwig's head twisted back round, then she hooted and hopped closer to Harry, nibbling at his fingers.

Harry Potter laughed. 'I knew you wouldn't be able to resist.’ He turned to Fleur and held out his hand. 'Do you have the letter? She's a bit particular about who gives her the things she takes, nearly took one of my friend’s fingers a year ago.'

 _One of the friends who turned their back on you?_ Fleur slipped her hand inside her uniform and pulled the warm envelope from under the strap of her bra. _Let’s hope he doesn’t realise where I stashed it, though if his past lack of attention is any indication, he might not even care._

Harry pinched the uppermost corner between his thumb and forefinger and passed it to Hedwig.

Fleur stared. _He’s that disgusted by my body heat?!_ She stifled a laugh. _Forget about my magic’s allure, if I want to beat him, perhaps I can just hug him._

'Gabrielle Delacour,' Harry Potter read off the envelope. 'It’s a long way to Beauxbatons from here, Hedwig. You can find her?'

The bird fluffed its feathers up and took off through the window.

Harry Potter chuckled. 'I shall take that as a yes, then.’ He watched Hedwig soar away into the drizzle, then turned to Fleur with a wrinkled brow. ‘Your younger sister?'

'Yes. I often write to Gabrielle. She misses me when I’m away.'

_And I miss her. Only a veela understands what it means to be a veela._

'It must be nice for her to hear from you,' Harry Potter said.

'I'm sure your family find it equally nice to hear from you.’

Harry Potter laughed.

Fleur winced. _Merde. He’s an orphan._

'I'm sorry.’

'Don't worry.' Half a smile crooked his lips. 'It's actually almost refreshing to have somebody forget.'

'They stare,' Fleur murmured.

'Yes, they do.' His green eyes froze hard and cold, then melted into a bright, brilliant smile.

 _The same one he gave Rita Skeeter. Smiles are simple lies._ Fleur’s stomached twisted and writhed. _Girls like Rita Skeeter deserve to be smiled to like that, but not me. I’m not like them._

'Madame Maxime told me about your task,' she said.

Harry Potter eyed the door behind her. ‘More questions? Well, at least you’ve not stolen my glasses this time.’

Fleur twitched. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’

The corner of Harry’s lips curved into the same half-smile. 'No? That doesn’t sound familiar? It must’ve been another French witch with an exceptional grasp of the disillusionment spell, then. What did Madame Maxime say?'

Fleur stepped across in front of the door. 'She said you cheated by bringing the model dragon in and that if you had summoned it, you might’ve got full marks.'

A spark of anger flickered in his eyes, then faded. 'I forgot about the wands only rule. How stupid of me.'

'You still came second.’

Amusement danced in his green eyes. 'Second is not first, is it?'

'No. You intend to try and win now.'

'Winning will prove to myself that I’m stronger than I used to be.’

 _You’ve years to get stronger._ Fleur tried to see the child that ought to be standing in front of her. _Yet what else is there but winning, when everyone turns against you._

'You’re fourteen–’

'When I win, I’ll let you read my name off the Triwizard Cup.' His green eyes were cold and sharp as the winter icicles that hung from her window. 'I guarantee it won’t say my age.’ Harry Potter swept past her and down the steps.

 _There’ll be other chances._ Fleur listened to his footsteps echo down the tower. _Even if he doesn’t feel the allure in my magic, I’m still the prettiest girl he’s seen. He’ll talk to me._

She recast her disillusionment spell and wandered round the quidditch pitch’s edge.

Ludo Bagman sat in the bottom row of the stands beside a witch dressed in official ministry robes. A sharp glint lurked in the witch’s eyes as they muttered together.

Fleur gave the two of them a wide berth.

A third person appeared from nowhere in front of her.

She twisted round the rat-faced wizard and froze.

He cocked his head, sniffing the air, and his small, watery eyes darted all around. His long fingernails curled from his tattered sleeves like claws.

Fleur wrinkled her nose as the reek of stale food and dirt reached her. _Perhaps this is Argus Filch, the infamous squib caretaker._

The wizard scuttled into the shadows of the red and gold painted section.

Silence loomed in his absence. Every shadow held a hundred dark creatures, the posts jutted into the sky like the spires of Nurmengard, and eyes settled on her from the darkness beneath the pines at the pitch’s edge.

Fleur shivered and her heart picked up, hammering against her ribs. _Time to leave this place._ She didn’t look back until she’d closed the door of Beauxbatons’ carriage behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	17. The Secrets of the Darkest Arts

Dark clouds streamed across the ceiling of the Great Hall. A clatter of plates and cutlery rumbled beneath in place of thunder.

Harry folded Sirius’ letter eight times, then tucked it under the edge of his plate.

 _So my invisibility cloak’s a very old family heirloom._ Harry stared up at the teachers’ table. _If it resists summoning charms, the revealing spell, and all the others Sirius listed, maybe it could’ve let me cross the age line. Dumbledore probably knows it can, that’s why he thinks I did it._

He pulled the Marauders’ Map out of his pocket and scanned the swarm of names. ‘Igor Karkoroff’s not in the castle and Professor Moody’s still in his office, like always. Which leaves Snape, who’s in his office as well, but I’m pretty sure Sirius only suggested him because he hates him.’

Harry folded the map over, then another name appeared at the edge of the quidditch pitch. _Peter Pettigrew._ He bounced his wand against his fingers. _If I catch him, I can prove Sirius’ innocence._

The name vanished.

_Next time, perhaps._

'Harrikins.' The twins slid themselves onto the bench across from him. ‘Long time no see.’

'We should probably stop calling him that, Fred.'

 _I’ve been called worse._ Harry tucked the letter out of sight.

'I suppose,' the other, possibly George, said. 'He did survive the dragon.'

'Shouldn't the two of you be over there?' Harry nodded in the direction of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie.

'No,' Fred said.

'They're coming over here,' George said. 'We told you this wouldn't last long if we could help it.'

'Although it was Katie that did most of the persuading,' Fred added.

Harry watched the three Gryffindor girls approach and drew a calm face over the cocktail of feelings churning in his stomach. He pictured the circle of blank ink on white paper and took a quiet, deep breath. 'Angelina, Alicia.’ He smiled. ‘Katie.’

‘Harry.’ Katie squirmed. ‘Nice to see you again.’

Angelina put her hands on her hips. 'I was assured you’d hear me out, despite Hermione telling me otherwise.'

'I promised somebody that I‘d at least listen to you. I keep my promises.'

She drummed her fingers on her hip. 'Then I’m sorry about what I did. You’ve represented both Gryffindor and Hogwarts as well as I could’ve, regardless of whether you used an invisibility cloak to put your name into the goblet.'

'So you don’t believe me, but have moved past your jealousy at not being chosen yourself.' Harry cast a glance down the table at Hermione and Ron. ‘An invisibility cloak isn’t enough to cross an age line. I heard someone in Ravenclaw tried it.’

Angelina’s finger’s curled into her waist and turned white. 'I suppose that’s a fair description.’

 _She’d do it again._ Harry’s thoughts welled up from the back of his mind in Riddle’s voice. _Forgive and forget and you’ll be betrayed next time, too._

'Then I’ll tell you what I told the rest of you. I don't forgive you and I won't forget what you did, but I do understand why you did it well enough not to hold a grudge and perpetuate this affair. We’re no longer friends, if we ever were. '

Katie beamed. A glitter of white teeth between pale, pink lips, her mahogany eyes glimmered beneath a scatter of loose dark hair. ‘Thank you, Harry.’

‘I get the feeling you don’t mean Katie,’ Alicia said.

'She was the one who convinced me to listen to you.’

Alicia smirked. 'I'm not very surprised Katie didn't go along with everything.’

Katie flushed and tugged at her little finger. ‘Thank you for listening.’ She shot a glance at her friends, who stepped back and took a seat several metres down the table.

'I said I would.' Harry eyed Katie’s fingers. Her anxious fidgeting seeped into him. ‘Er…’

'Do you want to go to Hogsmeade at the weekend?' She blurted.

'Who's going?' Harry asked.

'Me,' Katie whispered.

 _Oh. A date._ Harry blinked. _A date with Katie._

She stared up at him with wide eyes, biting at her lower lip. 'If you don't want to go it's ok,’ she murmured.

 _She’s cute and she’s fun._ Harry struggled for a reason to say no. _She seems to want to go with me and I don’t really have plans._

'What time?' he asked.

Katie grinned, a bright blush on her cheeks. 'Eleven. I'm not much of a planner. We can figure out what to do when we get there.'

 _What am I meant to do? Or wear?_ Harry’s stomached coiled into a knot. _Maybe I should’ve said no._

'Sounds perfect.' He flashed her a smile.

Katie's blush bypassed all remaining intermediate shades of red and skipped straight to crimson. She glanced back down the table to where Angelina and Alicia were giggling to each other, then bounced forward and wrapped her arms round him.

A soft warmth enveloped him. Harry slid his arms back round her, breathing in the scent of fresh cut grass, broom polish, and cherries.

'I'm sorry,' she said, when she let go and stepped back. 'I've never asked anyone on a date before and I sort of expected you to say no.' Katie’s words tumbled over one another into a happy burble. ' I need to get some food and go find Angelina and Alicia and then there’re classes…’ She gave him a wave and a smile, then skipped to her friends.

'Hogsmeade with Katie Bell.' Ginny spoke up from a few places down the table.

_How long has she been there?_

'Yes.’

'I was going to ask you if you'd take me to the Yule Ball.' Ginny’s tone was bright but her smile trembled. 'But if you're going on dates with Katie, then you'll be going with her.'

'I guess I will be.’

_It would be a bit strange if I didn’t ask her now._

'I suppose I've missed my chance, then.’ Ginny’s smile grew wider.

‘Sorry–’

'I can go with Dean or with Michael. I'll enjoy myself with either of them.'

'Don't make any decisions with me in the back of your mind,' Harry said. ‘I like Katie.’

'Ah.' A sad, small smile crept onto Ginny’s lips and she blinked several times. 'I hope you enjoy going with Katie, then.'

_I'm sorry. I’m not the boy you grew up dreaming about. I’ve never been the boy any of you grew up hearing about._

‘I think I’m probably going to hate the Yule Ball,’ he murmured.

 _Katie will make it bearable._ Harry headed for the Chamber of Secrets. _Salazar’s very unlikely to cry, ask me on a date, or invite me to a ball. Well, I certainly hope he doesn’t, at least._

Ron rose from his seat and stepped into his path. 'What the bloody hell did you say to my sister?'

Dean glowered past Ron’s shoulder, fists and jaw clenched.

_Ginny did mention Dean. Did he ask her already?_

'I told her something she knew I would, but hoped I wouldn't.’

'Was she not good enough for you?' Dean banged his goblet on the table. ‘You thought it was alright to just toss her away?’

'Would you rather I’d lied to her?’

'So you just crush her and walk away?' Ron’s face turned puce. ‘Does she mean _nothing_ to you?!’

'Better she understands now and has the chance to move on.’ Harry sighed. ‘Seriously, Ron. The longer it goes on, the worse it is for her. I’m not going to magically change my feelings for her over night. This is the right thing to do for her and me.’

Dean snorted. ‘Something tells me you’re more concerned about yourself, mate.’

Ron snarled. 'If you've hurt her–'

'You'll do what?' Harry let his wand slip into his hand. 'It’s not your place to decide things for Ginny, but if you want to play at being the protective older brother, you can start by asking Dean what his intentions were in asking her to the Yule Ball.'

Ron swivelled to stare at Dean.

'I was going to tell you if she said yes,' Dean said. 'But she wanted time to think about it, obviously because she wanted to go with _him_.'

Ron chewed that over clenching and unclenching his fists. 'It's alright. I trust you, Dean, but if you upset her, same bloody rules apply. You'll have me and all her older brothers to explain yourself too.' He glared at Harry. 'You've already hurt her, you arrogant prat, and you’ll pay for it.'

'Threatening me, Ron, isn’t a good idea. If you were smarter, you’d know that.' Harry tapped his wand against his palm. ‘You think you scare me? More than a dragon? A basilisk? Voldemort?’

Ron flinched.

‘Exactly.’ Harry slid his wand back into his sleeve. ‘If you can’t even say a silly made up name, you might as well get the hell out of my way.’ He brushed through the pair of them and headed for the chamber.

'Did you read all the books?' Salazar asked as Harry carried him over the bridge.

'I did.' Harry staggered to the side of the chamber and leant the picture against the wall. ‘More than once, as some took a few tries to wrap my head round.’

‘You understand the principles, then?' Salazar asked. ‘How blood magic, sacrificial magic, and rituals all fit together.’

'I understand the principles, but not how you would decide on an appropriate sacrifice.'

'That comes from understanding yourself and what you’re after. Was there anything in the books that caught your eye?'

'Yes.' Harry opened _the Secrets of the Darkest Arts._ ‘There’re over a hundred pieces of parchment covered in Tom Riddle’s handwriting stuffed in this book. I found it curious he’d devoted so much effort to the subject, but it wasn’t part of my reading.'

Salazar frowned down at the book. ‘Tom, like yourself, found he took well to certain areas of magic and pursued them single-mindedly.’

Harry tapped the tome. 'Do you know what a Horcrux is?'

Salazar nodded. 'It’s a branch of soul magic. It anchors a person to the world when they would otherwise die. A dangerous, double-edged piece of magic, I would imagine.'

 _I was less than the meanest ghost, but I was alive._ Harry recalled Voldemort’s words in their first meeting. _That’s how he survived._

'Tom Riddle created one,’ he said.

'Whatever he made into a horcrux is anchoring him here,’ Salazar said. ‘It would have to be destroyed before Riddle can be killed.'

'How can I find it?'

Salazar stroked his chin with one hand and the head of his snake with the other. 'These items will be very dangerous, even if they’re only magically protected by the creator. I would suspect a soul fragment could affect any magical, living thing that interacts with it. In all manner of ways.'

Harry’s eye drifted to the clean patch of stone near the maw of the basilisk’s corpse. _All manner of ways, huh. Like showing memories, absorbing life, and casting magic?_

'Could it possess someone?'

'I believe it could in the right circumstances,' Salazar replied. 'Possession is a crude word for what I would describe as imbuing a living thing with yourself. I’ve little practical experience with this aspect of soul magic, though. Why?'

'When I slew your basilisk it had been unleashed on the school by a girl possessed by a shade of Tom Riddle. The shade was connected to a diary and was only destroyed when I stabbed it with a basilisk fang.'

 _It was a horcrux._ A grim certainty settled on Harry. _But if I destroyed it, does that mean Riddle is finally dead?_

'That may very well have been a horcrux. What else did the diary do?'

'It wrote back if you wrote in it, it showed me his memories, and it tried to drain the life from Ginny to become real again.'

'Horcrux or not that was certainly no ordinary enchanted book,' Salazar said. ‘It is possible Tom Riddle created something different with similar effects, but it sounds like the diary was imbued with more than just magic. To act with intelligence and autonomy rather than just respond, that would require it to be imbued with intent of its own. A fragment of soul, if you like.'

_Someone needs to know._

'I have to tell Professor Dumbledore,' Harry said. 'I gave him the book after leaving the chamber, what if it’s not completely destroyed?'

'Basilisk venom is an unnatural substance, designed to destroy both organic tissue and any magic it comes into contact with. Whatever that diary was, horcrux or not, it’s destroyed. This Professor Dumbledore, he is the same one that taught Tom Riddle and defeated Grindelwald, a powerful dark wizard?'

'Yes. He’s recognised as the most powerful living wizard.'

'If he’s as powerful and knowledgeable as Tom Riddle feared and you believe, then I’ve little doubt he knows exactly what the diary was.’

Harry shook his head. 'He would have told me. Or, he would’ve told someone in the ministry. We’d’ve seen _something_ happen.’

Salazar stroked his chin. 'Perhaps, but it seems he hasn't, and I can't help but wonder why. There’s too much that we don’t know.'

'He might not’ve realised.'

 _But he always knows. Every year._ Harry scowled. _Dumbledore suggested we use the time-turner be used to save Sirius and Buckbeak, Fawkes came to help with the basilisk, and Dumbledore found me before the Mirror of Erised twice._

'It doesn’t yet matter,’ Salazar said. 'We’ve no real proof he ever created one, just a stack of notes on the subject. Read through them and perhaps we’ll learn something. Albus Dumbledore will have his reasons for keeping this a secret. It’s possible he intends to quietly destroy the other anchor and wishes to ensure Riddle does not suspect anything.'

_And Trelawney made that stupid prophecy about him rising again, so he can’t have died during second year._

'There has to be another anchoring horcrux,' Harry said. 'The diary was destroyed by the basilisk venom, so there has to be another one somewhere.'

'The horcrux will be well hidden and warded.’

'I’m surprised he left the notes.’

'Tom was the last of his family,' Salazar murmured. ‘Not only is this place well protected by the basilisk, but many wards. It was as much a sanctuary to him, as it is to you now.' Salazar sighed and his eyes darkened. 'Tom’s hubris was born in this room and it grew to consume him, amongst other things. He would’ve never believed I might find a more suitable heir than him even if some other blood relative came here, so he likely expects my Chamber of Secrets to be his for as long as he lives.'

'Dumbledore must be searching for the other horcrux,' Harry said. ‘That must be why he’s not said anything.’

'Or he’s already found the anchor and is searching for a way to destroy it and confirmation it is the only one. It’s unlikely there are more than a few, the side effects of such magic are not something to lightly risk.'

 _He didn’t look human._ The crimson eyes, slit nostrils, pale face and smoke-black spirit of Voldemort flashed through Harry’s mind. _Barely human at all._

'What kind of effects?'

'The soul is a reflection of many things,' Salazar said. 'I studied the subject in an attempt to create an artefact such as the one my daughter and I searched for. I swiftly gave up when I realised I didn’t have enough of my lifetime left to master such magic.'

‘When I saw him in first year, he looked inhuman.’

‘Voldemort, for it seems there’s little left of Tom, appears to have severely damaged himself, or, at least, changed himself. I would imagine it is the result of however you create horcruxes.' Salazar shuddered. ‘It would require a truly terrible desire to live, no less than an act of absolute selfishness would be powerful enough to fuel such magic, likely inflicting the very thing the creator wishes to escape on another to save himself.’

'Is his soul weaker?'

'A soul doesn’t have strength in such a simple way. It’s the essence of yourself. Your intentions in all things, great and small, and everything associated to them. Your body has strength, your magic has power, your mind has its intellect and will. The soul is that little bit _more_ behind them. Any soul magic is cast upon your own consciousness and magic itself. Something not to be undertaken lightly, Harry.'

_So true soul magic’s another very abstract, powerful kind of magic. Like blood magic, but the medium’s your intent and magic itself._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	18. Living Anchor

Pages of Tom Riddle’s neat, elegant script stretched across the floor of the chamber, weighted down by conjured glass balls. Harry stared down at them from the tip of the bridge.

‘There’s a lot of detail,’ Salazar said. ‘If he didn’t perform the magic himself, he must’ve witnessed it, or received a very detailed account from someone who had.’

'The theory behind creating a horcrux is in particularly great detail.' Harry skimmed the section beneath the purple glass weights. 'It’s much more than what’s in the book.’

'Tell me.’

'Like you suspected, they're created by inflicting the very thing the creator wishes to avoid upon another.’ Harry grimaced. ‘A wizard or witch of sufficiently strong mind can tear a fragment away and place it within another object. Riddle has corrected the book and written that as the soul is a symbolic representation that creates an emotive focus for a very complex piece of magic that would otherwise be impossible to cast, nothing is actually torn.'

'What type of object?' Salazar asked.

'It doesn’t say, but I assume it’s not just any, since the notes often mention things that don't work.' Harry shuddered. ‘The more I read, the more I get the feel this was cobbled together from trial and error.’

'So what could be a horcrux?'

‘Riddle thinks they have to be of great importance or value to the creator, otherwise the creator doesn’t feel enough of a connection to them to successfully imbue them with a reflection of themselves. Once they’re created, they're supposed to be almost impossible to destroy, basilisk venom and fiendfyre are the only two things mentioned, but Tom speculates magic of a similar nature but opposite intention to their creation might also work.’

‘And how does Tom think they worked?’

‘As an anchor of sorts. Tom perceives the soul as more of a magic-powered sense of self. Someone with strong will and powerful magic can survive so long as that sense of self endures. He believes the magic of a horcrux imbues an object with a reflection of the creator’s self, their intent as a whole. The bond is then strong enough to tie themselves to life, even if the person’s body is destroyed. He thinks that to create it, you must fuel your intent by demonstrating your absolute desire to remain alive. _A life for a life._ ’ Harry swallowed and tore his eyes away from the page. ‘And he’s very sure it would require the Killing Curse, because that spell requires undiluted intent to kill.'

Salazar stared at him. ‘You may not thank me for saying this, Harry, but you’ve the very same knack my wife, daughter, and Tom did. I don’t think there are many wizards who’d grasp this so quickly.’

_I suppose it’s a compliment. Just because Tom Riddle was good at something and did bad things with it, doesn’t mean I should be ashamed of being good at that thing._

'There is some good news,’ Harry said. ‘The soul isn’t eternal. Tom believes both will-power and the sense of self decays as one ages, achieves, and lives and the anchoring bond will fade. However, it can only fade when the creator’s intent fades…'

'So should Tom achieve his ambitions, it may prove his undoing,' Salazar mused. ‘I wonder if you can recover from casting this piece of magic, though. The intent required to cast it, going so far as to inflict something you loathe upon another to escape it, that sort of act sacrifices more of a person than you might think’ Shadows rose in Salazar’s eyes. ‘Perhaps that’s what happened to Tom, twisted by the intent of his own soul magic, until nothing was left of his dreams and desires but an absolute will to endure.’

 _An escape from the nothingness of death._ Harry tapped his foot on the rough scrawl marring the last few pages. Tom Riddle’s broken quill tip stuck from the page beneath, surrounded by a circle of dark ink. _Lord Voldemort._ _Perhaps it is._

‘What about the book?’ Salazar asked. ‘What does it say?’

‘Tom’s corrected most of it.’ Harry held out his hand and summoned the book into his palm. ‘There’s a small section he didn’t bother with.’ He skimmed the page. 'It’s a warning. The author hypothesises that creating several horcruxes, or creating one and using the killing curse frequently afterward, may create such a strong mental association that in the right circumstances, horcruxes may be created accidentally because the intent of the creator’s magic is affected by their resolution to endure. He talks about it as if it was healing. After a horcrux is made, the creator may move on and the horcrux will eventually fade as these other things are achieved, losing his immortality once his dreams are realised. In the absence of other true goals, an obsession with immortality itself may fester and then, should the circumstances of the piece of magic occur by extreme coincidence, an accidental horcrux may be created. A bond may well form between accidental anchor and owner, possibly resulting in the development of an obsessive interest, or, in the case of living creatures, a display of similar characteristics and skills.'

 _The very same knack._ Sharp ice-cold fingers tightened themselves around his stomach, piercing through to his spine. Harry took several deep breaths and pictured the circle of dark ink on the page, but Tom Riddle’s quill tip stuck from it and the ink seeped out like it’d run from the diary after Harry’d stabbed it.

Salazar stared at him. ‘What’s wrong, Harry?'

'In my second year, when the shade of Riddle opened the Chamber and I learnt I could speak Parseltongue, I asked Dumbledore why Tom Riddle and I were so similar.'

 _And he knew. He’s always known._ The fist of ice clenched in his shattered and seeped into his blood. A tang of iron pooled on Harry’s tongue. _He’s always fucking known!_

'He told me he believed I‘d absorbed a small piece of Voldemort's power when I was given this scar,' Harry hissed, parseltongue slipped from his lips. 'It made us similar, he said, and gave me my ability to speak to snakes.'

'He lied to you.' Salazar’s speech wavered between Parseltongue and English. 'My parselmagic cannot be passed on in such a way, it’s imperative you have my blood for the magic to work. Magical power can’t be absorbed in such a manner, either, or there would’ve been wizards killing each other left and right to do so. He knows about the horcruxes. He knows that you are one. He has always known.'

 _I’m a horcrux. I’m what is keeping Voldemort alive. Why me?_ Harry’s hands shook. The glass paperweights shattered one by one and dissolved into white mist. _It’s so bloody unfair. So unfair._

'I have to die.’ He tossed _the Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ to the ground. ‘The diary is gone. When I’m dead, so’s Tom Riddle.'

Salazar scowled. 'I will not allow it,' he hissed. 'You are the Heir of Salazar Slytherin, not a sacrifice to be used by lesser wizards. We will find another way or we will make one.'

Harry slumped down onto the cold stone. 'How many will have to die before we find one? Better to just get it over with.'

'As many as necessary,' Salazar spat. 'We don’t know how many of these horcruxes Riddle has made besides yourself, your death may simply ensure his secret remains undiscovered.'

'I can't tell Dumbledore I know about them.’

'No. You cannot. We can't predict his reaction. He may be searching for other horcruxes, or keeping you alive as long as he can, but the moment you become a liability, he might kill you. Worse things have been done for the greater good.'

'I’m not a match for Albus Dumbledore.' Harry stared at the slim crack joining the stones between his feet. ‘Voldemort might be, but I don’t think he’s going to be much help.’

 _I’ll have to walk a path apart from either of them._ Harry sighed. _Alone._

'I will think on this,' Salazar said. ‘A solution may present itself.'

'Tempus,' Harry murmured, tapping his wand on his wrist.

 _A few minutes to eleven_. Harry groaned. _Katie…_

The Marauder's map showed Katie waiting for him at the entrance hall. Pettigrew’s name hovered at the edge of the quidditch pitch for a moment, then vanished off the corner of the map.

 _Smile, Harry._ He strode from the chamber. _It’s not Katie’s fault, make sure she enjoys her date. It might be how she remembers you.’_

Katie hovered near the entrance, wrapped up in a thick duffel coat and an orange and yellow scarf. Her hair was tied up on her head, her lips red, and her eyelashes dark. Harry transfigured his creased robes into something more fitting and patted at his hair. It sprung back up straight away.

'Harry.' Katie beamed. 'I was beginning to worry you weren't coming.'

'Well I’m nervous, but not _that_ nervous.'

_Well, I was. Not now, though. No point in being nervous now. No point in being anything._

She grinned and slipped her arm through his. Her warmth radiated from his shoulder to where their thighs brushed.

'So where are we going?' Harry asked.

'Madam Puddifoots?'

'The place with all the pink?' Harry tried to picture sporty, casual Katie there among all the fluffy cushions and hearts. ‘Really?’

_Please say no. It’s such an awkward, uncomfortable shop._

'Yes, do you mind?'

'Not if that's what you want,' Harry said. 'It doesn't really seem like your sort of place, though.’

'Full marks, Harry.' Katie laughed. ‘Definitely not my cup of tea. But I did enjoy the brief look of horror you wore.'

'So you don't want to go?' Harry sighed. ‘That’s a relief, you know it actually ranks higher than Snape’s office on the list of places Gryffindor boys never want to find themselves?’

'All girls like a little romance, but that's not my type. Let's go to the Shrieking Shack. We can meet up with Angelina, Alicia, and the twins afterward?'

He nodded and led the way to the Shrieking Shack. Katie bounced alongside him, a broad grin on her lips. Stray locks of her hair slipped from its bun and dangled down over her eyes.

'I love this place. Nobody ever dares come in, but it's so cool.' Katie glanced around, then pointed to the dent Professor Lupin had left in the wall. 'That's new.’

'Do you know the real story?' Harry asked.

'No, everyone just knows it's haunted. I didn’t know there _was_ a real story!’

'I can tell you, if you like?'

Katie brushed the splinters off the three-legged chair and gestured for Harry to sit on one half. He obliged. Katie took the other side, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep her balance.

'Tell me.’

'A while back there was a student at Hogwarts who was a werewolf. Every full moon he’d come here to transform, sneaking out of the castle using a secret passage. The werewolf was lucky enough to have three friends who didn’t care what he was and they decided, in order to help him, that they‘d become animagi.'

'How would that help?' Katie eyed the claw marks on the walls.

'Werewolves aren’t dangerous to animals, their bite only affects humans. However, the transformation is supposed to be very painful and so to keep him company they turned into animals and came here with him.'

'Did nobody ever realise?'

'I don't know,' Harry said. 'That's more or less the whole of the story as I know it.'

'How did you learn about the place?'

'Do you remember Professor Lupin?' Harry asked.

'Yes. He was a really good teacher, but he resigned because... _Oh_. He was the student.'

'He told me about it last year.’

'Who were the other three, then?'

'Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter.' His voice cracked at the last name and he glanced away with a grimace.

'Your father.' Katie squeezed his shoulder and gave him a smile. 'Thanks for telling me the story, Harry. It must mean a lot to you.'

‘In a way.’

'I've come here almost every time I visit Hogsmeade, but I never knew what it was actually for.'

'What _did_ you think it was?'

'I always thought it was a hoax,' Katie said. 'I never saw any ghosts when I came here.'

'Well, now you know.'

Katie tucked herself under his arm. 'It's good you're taller now. You can keep me warm.'

'It is a little cold.’ Harry waved a hand at the walls. ‘The shack doesn’t really have much insulation, either.’

Katie beamed and shifted a closer to Harry. A loud snap echoed through the room and they were pitched to the floor.

Harry brushed his robes off and offered Katie his hand. ‘Oops. I think that was Professor Lupin’s favourite chair.’

Katie giggled and let him pull her to her feet. 'We've broken part of one of Hogwarts' most iconic buildings.’

'Professor Lupin won't mind. He started the demise of the chair himself.'

Harry surveyed the remnants as Katie brushed the dust off her clothes and fingered his wand. _I could repair it, but then it’d be like this moment never happened._

‘Ready?’ he asked.

She nodded, then dragged her hair out of its bun and shook it free. ‘That’s better.’ She grinned. ‘Sorry, Harry. I’m happy to wear make up for you, but I’m not tying my hair up until at least the third date.’

 _Why would she wait – oh._ Harry felt heat creep into his cheeks. _Wow._

He scrabbled for some words. ‘Careful. I might try and hold you to that.’

Katie’s grin came with a wicked gleam in her eye. ‘I will if you don’t.’

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. ‘I think I should concede defeat now.’

‘Well, I’m not sure you can go any more red in the face anyway.’ Katie laughed. ‘Let's go to the Three Broomsticks. We’re out of chairs here.’

They made their way back towards Hogsmeade's best pub. Harry let the quiet song of the birds, the gentle breeze, and the smell of the woods was over him. His steps sprung over the frosty ground.

Katie slipped her hand into Harry’s. Her soft, warm fingers curled tight through his and over the back of her hand.

Angelina, Alicia, and the Weasley twins sat round a table pressed against the side wall of the inn. Shouts, cheers, and the buzz of conversation rolled over Harry like a wave.

 _Loud._ He grimaced.

‘C’mon.’ Katie pulled him toward the table.

Angelina stole a pair of chairs from the table behind and glared when the bunch of third years tried to protest. 'All we need now is the keeper.’

'It's a good thing Wood's left to join the big leagues.' A twin, Harry presumed Fred since he was closest to Angelina, offered a broad grin. ‘He wouldn’t be happy with this.’

'Indeed, brother mine,' George said. 'He'd be outraged.'

Fred snickered. 'He'd be the only member of the team not dating another team mate.'

Katie disappeared into the crowd by the bar.

Harry laughed. 'We'd get a very long lecture about squad relations, then he would’ve forced us all to be married so we couldn't separate and harm the atmosphere of the team.'

 _Katie’s nearly two years older than me._ His laughter faded. _A few successful dates and a few years and she might start thinking about stuff like that. That’s not such a long way away._

'I got firewhiskey.' Katie wriggled through the and back to the table, three small glasses clutched in either hand.

'How'd you manage that?' The twins stared at her like she’d just turned water to wine.

'Well the drinking age is seventeen.' Katie shrugged. 'I might only be a fifth year and sixteen, but I'm sitting with three sixth years who’re nearly overage. I guess they just assumed I was, too.'

'What about Harry?' Fred asked. 'He's an ickle fourth year.'

'He's not ickle.'

Angelina and Alicia burst into giggles. Harry inspected the grain of the table, willing the heat to fade from his face.

Katie flushed bright crimson. 'They never asked. I guess they assumed that if he can defeat a Dark Lord as a baby, he can manage alcohol.'

'Are you sure you can _manage_ him, Katie?' Alicia waggled her eyebrows.

'I guess I'll be keeping the rest of these, then.' Katie passed a single whiskey glass to Harry and each of the Weasley's, then swept the other three into a line in front of herself.

'We'll behave.' Angelina raised her palms. 'Harry doesn't want to see drunk Katie on his first date.'

'It would put even the most lovesick of suitors off,' George said.

'I remember when Alicia was given a whole case of elderflower wine because the shop lost her ordered bottle and the three of us drank it on New Year's Eve. I took the candle you stole from the Great Hall and you got so angry you tried to transfigure me into a goblin.' Angelina dissolved into giggles, gasping for breath.

Katie blushed. 'I didn't! I only _threatened_.'

'No. No,’ Alica gasped through laughter. 'You tried _very_ hard, but you were using a breadstick from the kitchens instead of your wand.'

'And you were certain that it was your wand,’ Angelina said. ‘Alicia ate it in front of you and you burst into tears because you thought you'd never be able to do magic again.'

'I did not.' Katie muttered. 'I don't remember doing any of that.'

'Of course you don't.' Alicia smirked. 'It was a thirteen bottle case and you drank seven of them. You fell asleep in the middle of crying about your breadstick and we had to carry you back to bed.'

'Never let her drink, Harry,' Angelina said. 'She's very funny drunk, but an absolute disaster to deal with. We've a hundred more stories from that night alone.'

'Well keep them to yourselves.' Katie pushed her lips together and curled them inwards into a small pout. ‘Or I’ll drink all these.’

Angelina crossed her arms. 'Go ahead.'

Katie lined up the three glasses and gulped them down, placing them in a neat row in front of her. She beamed. ‘Done.’

'Uh oh,' Fred and George chorused. ‘We're in trouble now.

'Firewhiskey is potent stuff,' Fred said. 'It's meant to give you a buzz no matter how much you drink, but the more you do the stronger and longer the feeling.'

Harry glanced at the three empty glasses, then at his own. ‘How strong?’

'Don't worry Harry,' Katie cheered. ‘If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.' She pushed his glass towards him.

The Weasley's linked arms and downed their own.

‘Not that strong, just a little bit of cheer,’ Fred said.

‘Unless you drink several, brother mine,’ George added. ‘Then it’s triple the effect!’

Harry eyed the amber liquid.

'It doesn't hurt.' Katie’s pushed it toward him with her fingertip. 'You'll feel great.’

‘One’s fine,’ Angelina said.

Alicia nodded. ‘Three’s trouble, but one’s nothing.’

Harry raised the glass to his lips and tipped the firewhiskey down his throat. It seared down his throat like liquid flame, then pooled into a deep, warm glow in his stomach. ‘Actually, after the fire bit, it’s not bad.’

'See.' Katie shuffled close to him, her hand resting on his thigh. ‘It’s a good buzz.’

‘And three?’

Katie gave his leg a squeeze. ‘I probably shouldn’t have drunk three. Triple the buzz, but it messes with your head a bit too much. Just be nice to me and I won’t bite.’ She leant in to his ear. ‘Much larger chance of me tying my hair up today, now,’ Katie whispered.

Harry laughed and let the warm tingle radiate through him. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Katie,’ he murmured back.

Angelina and Alicia dissolved into giggles again. Fred gave him a thumbs up and a wink.

‘Definitely can’t call you Harrikins, now,’ George said.

'How long does this last?' Harry asked.

Not long,' Fred said. ‘For us, less than half an hour. For Katie, maybe a couple of hours.’

'We should head towards Honeydukes,' Alicia said. 'Fred promised us chocolate and Lee’s probably waiting there by now.'

Angelina giggled. ‘And we’ll give Harry and Katie some time, so Katie can _tie up her hair_.’

Katie flushed. ‘Go away, you quaffle-hogging whores.’

Alicia and Angelina burst into laughter again, then rose and squeezed out past Harry.

Angelina bent to Harry’s ear. 'Keep her cheerful,’ she murmured. 'Katie's an extremely emotional drunk, but lovely as long as she's happy.'

Alicia smiled as she pulled her coat and scarf back on. 'Of course, being Katie and being drunk means just about anything could upset her. She once cried for ten minutes because she dropped her sandwich when we went to the kitchens after celebrating Lee's birthday.'

Katie shook her head and beamed. 'I'm always happy.’

'Thanks for the whiskey, Katie,’ the twins chorused over their shoulder as they left.

'Let's go wander.' Katie slipped an arm about his waist, then squirmed over his lap to grab her coat.

Harry pushed himself up from his seat and helped her get her arms back into her blue duffel coat. ‘Where shall we wander?'

'I don't mind.' She wrapped her arm back round his waist. ‘Happy to drift about as long as I’m with you.’

 _As long as you’re with me._ A lump swelled up in Harry’s throat and he turned his head away to blink back liquid heat from his eyes. _Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before._

Katie glanced around, then giggled and pushed him down a side alley. She wrapped her hand round her hair and coiled it atop her head, staring up at him and biting her lip.

 _Why – oh._ Harry gulped, despite the warmth of the alcohol in his blood. _Is she serious?_

Katie burst into laughter. ‘Just kidding. It’s too cold out here and I’m not that sort of girl. Takes more than three firewhiskey’s to get me on my knees, Harry.’

He stroked his chin in mock thought. ‘We can always go back for a couple more?’

‘Nice try.’ Katie shook her hair back down over her scarf and dragged him out of the alley. ‘I’m only teasing, though.’ Her eyes slipped down from his face. ‘Well, _this time_ I’m only teasing.’ She seized Harry’s hand and bounced away up the street, tugging him after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	19. Kindred Spirits

The golden egg sat on a grime-speckled, white tile. Patches of black mould speckled the grout surrounding it. The pale tiles spread to dirt-smudged, watermark-spattered walls. A short poem about Cedric Diggory’s jawline had been scribbled near the sink inside a lopsided heart.

 _He’s not that handsome._ Fleur poked the egg with her wand’s tip. _But the poetry is that bad. Who tries to rhyme jawline with defined?_

It wobbled, spun, then fell and split open.

A piercing shriek filled the room.

Fleur slammed it shut. ‘Irritating. As always.’ She scowled at her reflection in the egg. ‘Perhaps I ought to let Madame Maxime give me a few hints after all. Maybe the shrieking’s even somehow the clue itself, rather than a protection for it.’

_But I doubt Harry Potter is being given any hints. And winning will taste sweetest if I beat him properly._

‘Back to the carriage, I think.’ Fleur cast her disillusionment spell, grabbed the golden egg, and slipped out of the bathroom and headed for Madame Maxime.

Madame Maxime’s huge frame loomed by the window in the common area of the carriage. Empty tables and chairs surrounded her.

Fleur knocked on the door. 'Madame Maxime?’

'Yes, Fleur?' Madame Maxime set down her mug of coffee. ‘You have a question about the second task?’

'I was wondering if you knew if any creatures that emit such screams as the egg?' Fleur patted the golden object.

Madame Maxime smiled. 'I'm afraid I cannot say, but I would like to recommend you a book. I do not have it here, but Hogwarts' Library certainly will. It is called _Magical Creatures of the Water and their Secrets._ '

'Thank you,' Fleur said.

 _But if the other champions know, they’ll take the book out. Merde._ She cast her disillusionment charm and ran for the library.

Fleur stalked the shelves, running her invisible finger along the spines of the books.

 _Magical creatures. Magical creatures._ Fleur’s finger fell into a large gap. _Veela… Someone’s doing their research. On me, no doubt._ She frowned but moved on. _Aha, water creatures._

‘Grindylows. No.’ She flicked through the pages. ‘Merpeople…’

 _The singing of the Merpeople cannot be understood above water_. _Any attempts to hear their singing above the waves will only be met by a loud shrieking._

 _Voila!_ Fleur snapped the book shut. _Merci, Madame Maxime._

She abandoned her charm, then strode to the witch’s desk near the exit. ‘I’d like to take this out, please.’

‘You’re Miss Delacour.’ The witch drummed her fingers on the book. ‘Very well. Champions of other schools have permission to withdraw books. You’ve a month, but you can extend that time if need be. There’s no waiting list.’

_The task’s further away than that._

‘I’m afraid I’ll probably need it for a while.’ She hid her smile. ‘Can I keep it for a few months? Three?’

The witch nodded and tapped her wand on the book’s cover. ‘There’s no waiting list. All yours, Miss Delacour.’

A door banged.

Fleur glimpsed familiar red hair through the small window. _Harry Potter’s former friend._ She snatched her book off the desk and hurried behind the shelves.

‘Hermione, c’mon,’ Ron Weasley groaned. ‘Show a little mercy, yeah!’

‘Hush,’ the witch behind the desk hissed.

‘Stop whining, Ronald.’ Hermione swept her bushy hair out of her eyes. ‘Let’s grab a table over there. I’ve stuff to tell you.’

 _Stuff about Harry Potter again?_ A stab of curiosity pierced Fleur and she crept along the shelf parallel.

‘I took out all the books on veela, but they’re rubbish.’ Hermione huffed. ‘Clearly they were all written by _wizards._ Six chapters of drawings of nude veela and less than half a chapter on what they can actually do!’

Fleur stifled a sigh. _Idiots. Veela have been around for thousands of years and wizards still only see pretty faces and curvy figures._

Ron snorted. ‘Can I see those chapters?’

Hermione shoved her bag under her chair. ‘No!’

‘Fine.’ Ron eyed the bag, then leant his elbows on the table. ‘Was that it?’

‘No, Ron. That’s not it.’ Hermione crossed her arms. ‘There’s something wrong with Harry. He spends all his time by himself. He avoids touching people wherever he can, he grimaces every time anyone raises their voice. Something _must_ have happened at the World Cup.’

‘That veela?

 _So it’s not about me, at least._ Fleur edged a little closer. _Still, they’re not very smart if they think Harry Potter developed behaviour like this over one summer._ She pressed her lips into a thin line and sighed. _It takes years to hurt someone that much. Years, betrayed trust, failed hope, and fickle friends._

‘Maybe it’s a love potion.’ Ron screwed his face up. ‘Or some kind of loyalty potion?’

Hermione covered her face with her hands. ‘There’s no such thing as a loyalty potion. Love potions require a close relationship to work, too. They inspire strong feelings when the dosed person thinks about whomever gave them the potion.’

‘So that’s a no to both?’

‘It could be a love potion,’ Hermione said. ‘But that Bulgarian veela has no close relationship, his family have no magic, and we were there all the rest of the time.’

Ron shrugged. ‘I dunno, then. I reckon he used his cloak to enter, if he did, but I’m not sure about anything else.’

Hermione moaned and thudded her forehead on the desk. ‘I should’ve never cast that spell at his wand, Ron. I can’t believe I was so stupid. He loved that wand and I broke it. He’ll never forgive me.’ She made a strange half-hiccup, half sob. ‘You heard him. He doesn’t want me and he doesn’t even need me.’

Ron grimaced, reached out, and patted her on the shoulder. ‘I’m sure he’ll come around, yeah. I mean, you broke his wand, Hermione. I’d be bloody pissed with you and Harry was way more fond of his wand than I’m fond of my new one. It’s gonna take a while, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose,’ Hermione whispered. ‘I just – I wanted – I forgot – I think sometimes I’m a bit too used to being right, Ron. I don’t even consider being wrong until it’s too late.’

 _You have better friends than I did, Harry Potter._ A strange, soft hollow feel seized Fleur’s heart. _But it seems they don’t understand you any better than mine did me._ She squashed the feeling and straightened up. _He’s like me. He’ll be fine. People like us always win. Always._

Hermione sat up. ‘I’m just worried. He’s going on a _date_ with Katie Bell. She doesn’t like me very much, so that’s not going to help. He’ll find someone else, someone better at being his friend than me, and I’ll never get another chance!’

‘Quietly!’ The witch at the desk hissed.

Fleur picked her way back through the shelves. _If he’s smart, he’ll try, but there aren’t many people like us._ She paused. _Maybe I should talk to him? He has nobody and Gabby’s far away._

She hastened to the nearest bathroom, slammed it shut, locked it, then shoved the plug in the sink and wrenched the taps open. The water swirled and splashed, creeping up the white ceramic.

Fleur opened the egg and plunged it into the sink. The shriek shifted into gentle singing. She swept her silver hair over her right shoulder and dipped her left ear into the water.

‘Come seek us where our voices sound. We cannot sing above the ground. And while you're searching ponder this; we've taken what you'll sorely miss. An hour long you'll have to look, and to recover what we took, but past an hour, the prospect's black. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.’

 _Merde._ Fleur patted her ear and cheek dry with a handful of white towel. _That means the task will be underwater. My magic’s hampered by the cold and wet. And they’ll take something precious…_

She pulled the plug, dried her hands, and tossed the towel back onto the rail. ‘First things first, to find a way to survive underwater for an hour. Self-transfiguration is out, since I don’t want to end up as some mangled harpy when I try to revert back to my natural form and get stuck between the two of them.’

She watched the water drain out of the sink, then swept out of the bathroom. _Oh well. I’m better at enchanting anyway. There must be some way to turn water to air, or to recreate the bubblehead charm._

'Miss Delacour.' A smooth baritone rang out as she passed through the entrance to the Great Hall.

 _Merde. The Yule Ball. I forgot to rein in my magic or disillusion myself._ Fleur swivelled, taking in the glazed eyes and hopeful faces of over fifty students. _Why must they all be so weak-willed?_

'Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?' A lean young man with patchy beard and stubble offered her a smile.

'Sorry.' She forced a smile. 'But no.'

Hope blossomed on the faces of all the boys around her. Feathers prickled beneath Fleur’s skin, the bones of her face shifted a fraction, and heat crept into the palms of her hands.

A dark-haired, blue-eyed boy with a neat, earnest appearance stepped out of the crowd and shot her a grin. 'Miss Delacour, my name is Roger Davies. I was hoping you would let me accompany you to the Ball?'

 _He would’ve made a better target for poetry than Cedric Diggory._ Fleur’s eyes roved over his high cheekbones and strong, confident jawline. _Definitely a pureblood. There’s a lot of generations of pretty witches and wealthy wizards in that face._

The boys’ faces fell. Girls muttered through the crowd, throwing sharp, bitter looks at her. Every eye burnt on her skin as if she stood before them naked.

 _I hate this._ Fleur felt the tips of feathers start to slide through her skin beneath her robes. _I wish they’d just go away. None of them are like me. None of them._

Harry Potter entered the hall from the far side, hand in hand with the same girl who’d passed Fleur the bouillabaisse. He glanced up at her, then returned his attention to the girl at his side.

'No.' Fleur tracked Harry Potter’s progress across the hall. 'I'm afraid you may not.'

Roger Davies gaped. ‘Oh.’

Harry Potter’s laughter echoed across the hall.

 _He’s laughing at me._ Fire boiled in Fleur’s blood. It took ever ounce of pride to suppress the shift of her body. _He – he should know better than to laugh at me like all those stupid girls used to!_

‘Let’s see how you like it when everyone’s laughing at you.’ She drew herself up and forced a torrent of her allure into her magic, thrusting it out across the hall.

A ripple of glazed eyes, vacant, dreamy stares spread over the hall.

Fleur smiled. _Now we’re even, Harry Potter._

Harry glanced round the room as the ripple reached him, then shrugged and turned back to the girl he was arm in arm with.

Fleur gasped. Her anger vanished like the wind from the sails of a ship. _He can’t possibly have not felt that._

The girl beside Harry Potter glared at Fleur with white-hot fury. The fingers of the hand not in Harry's clenched into a fist so tight her knuckles turned white.

 _Oh, merde._ A cold chill trickled down Fleur’s spine. Feathers prickled beneath her skin. _I tried to enthrall a boy in front of everyone. Merde. Merde. Merde._

The girl started toward Fleur, ripping her wand out from under her coat, but Harry Potter caught her arm and whispered something in her ear. He gestured around them with one hand and a deep frown. They became locked in an argument of furious whispers. Harry pulled the girl back by her arm when she raised her wand at Fleur. She stuffed it away, then hauled him away into the corridor

 _He doesn’t know what’s going on. He’s defending me._ Fleur turned on her heel and strode out. Her stomach churned so much she feared she be sick in the corridor. _If that girl’s anything like me, then I’ve just become everything Emilie and Caroline accuse me of being_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	20. Nobility's Curse

The portraits upon the stairway stared down at him. They flitted between their frames, muttering and murmuring. The Fat Lady closed her eyes and crossed her arms.

 _Where is she?_ Harry pushed Sirius' letter further into his pocket. His gut twisted and turned like a barrelful of snakes. _I could've read this letter twice over by now_. _She can't still be angry at me for stopping her picking a fight with Fleur Delacour._

The Fat Lady's pictured swung aside and a trio of Gryffindor students stumbled out.

Harry glanced at them, then turned away. _Still no Katie._ He sighed and tried to crush the churning in his abdomen away; it tightened like a vice. _She fought with her friends for me, she wouldn't just leave me alone over something as small as this._

The Fat Lady swung aside. A flash of orange and yellow caught the corner of Harry's eye.

'Harry…' Katie's lip trembled.

'Katie.' He clawed as bright a smile as he could over the knot in his stomach. 'How have you been?'

Her brown eyes fixed on an empty portrait on the far side of the stairs. 'Not great.'

'Are you ok?'

Her expression crumbled. Tears glinted in the corner of her eyes. 'I did something very stupid,' Katie whispered.

'If it's about what happened in the Great Hall, then it doesn't matter,' Harry said. 'I don't know why you were so angry with Fleur Delacour, I just didn't want you to get yourself in trouble.'

Katie's fists clenched. 'Do you not _see_ how she affects everyone around her?!'

'They all stare at her.'

_Like they all stare at me._

'She's _part veela_ , Harry,' Katie said. 'I overheard Hermione telling the other guys in your year. They stare at her because she uses her magic to charm them into liking her.'

 _Does she?_ Harry recalled the disillusionment spell, near perfect. _I've not noticed her doing it. In fact, she seems to try and keep to herself when she's not stealing my glasses._

Katie's knuckles went white. 'She used it on you in the Great Hall! We were together and she tried to _steal_ you.'

 _Oh._ The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach. _I guess I just can't feel it as well as others. I wasn't as caught up in it at the World Cup, either._

'I'm sorry.' He dug for other words. 'I didn't–'

'She tried to steal you with her magic.' Katie's lip trembled and she shoved her fists into the pockets of her robes. 'And when I got mad, you defended her!'

'I didn't know. I promise.'

_Stupid bloody idiot. I should've known Katie wouldn't start something over nothing._

'You shouldn't have said anything!' Katie's eyes filled with tears. 'I was so angry with you, Harry. _So_ angry. If you'd just not said anything, it wouldn't have happened.'

A chill settled on Harry's spine. 'What wouldn't have happened?'

Katie bit her lip. A drop of clear liquid spilt down her cheek. 'Roger Davies asked me to the Yule Ball in the corridor afterward. I said yes.'

 _Why would you do that?_ He tried to picture it, but Roger Davies' face kept blurring into his own. _How could you do that?_

'I'm so sorry. I was angry. And the firewhiskey...' Tears poured down Katie's face. 'Maybe – maybe after the Yule Ball, we can go on another date?'

 _Can't you just tell Roger Davies you've changed your mind?_ Harry caught the question on the tip of his tongue. _Or maybe you quite like the idea of a night with a good-looking guy before he leaves next year. Maybe you fancy tying your hair up for a bit without any consequences._

'Harry?' Katie whispered. 'Please say something.'

 _Does it matter why?_ A smooth, high murmur welled up in the back of Harry's skull. _If she's capable of doing it once. She's capable of doing it again. If I forget that, I'll just find myself here again. If I forgive her, she'll think it's ok to hurt me._

A little ball of cold settled over Harry's heart.

Katie reached a hand out, then collapsed into his chest. Her warm tears soaked into the shoulder of his robes.

'I was going to ask you to the Yule Ball.' Harry found words beneath the ice. They welled up through the cold out of a numb, dark, hollow place. 'I sort of assumed we'd eventually end up going together after you asked me on a date, so I turned down Ginny.'

Katie sobbed into his shoulder. The draft through the stairway turned the hot damp of her tears to a soft chill. She drew back and smeared the tears off her face with her sleeve. Mascara smudged the skin beneath her eyes, a faint redness hovered on her cheeks, and stray strands of her hair stuck to glistening patches on her face.

 _So much lost._ Harry let the numbness creep over him. _It doesn't matter anyway. I'll have to die soon._

'I hope you enjoy the Yule Ball with Roger Davies.' Harry tried to bite the rest of the words off, but they tumbled off his tongue. 'Go ahead. Tie up your hair for him. I suspect his mind's going to be on a different girl the whole time anyway.'

Katie's lip trembled. She whirled, and shoved her way through a group of students leaving Gryffindor Tower.

 _Fuck this Yule Ball._ Harry tried to picture himself there among the gaudiness of decorations and festive cheer. _Perhaps I just won't go. If I have to die, then I might as well do what I want first. Everyone else just seems to do whatever they want._

He turned on his heel and stalked toward the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry sat on the tip of the serpent bridge's tongue. He pulled Sirius' letter out and stared at the plain seal. _What does it matter what it says?_ He clawed at the emptiness, searching for something in the depths of hollowness. The void gnawed back at him. _It takes another little piece of me every time. And it doesn't feel like there's all that much left._

Harry took a deep breath. 'Read the letter. Don't dwell on stupid stuff when it's not going to matter in the end anyway.'

He scanned the untidy scrawl. _Prove them all wrong._ Deep quill scratches marred the parchment's surface where the letters marked the page. _Win the damn thing._

'I'll win it. I can die after I've won.' He seized on the shard of ice in his chest, clutching at it like a lifeline. 'They can drown in my shadow. Ron, Hermione, Katie, Fleur Delacour, and all the rest of them. They'll never forget.'

_And I won't be nothing, then. Not once they've all seen me._

He raised his wand from his sleeve and pressed the tip against the centre of Sirius' letter. The parchment browned, then burst into flames, curling upon itself and disintegrating into ash.

 _Like it was never here._ He tilted his hand and let the ashes slip into the cold, dark water, of the pool beneath the bridge. _As if nothing ever happened._ Harry watched them sink, clinging to the ice he felt, pushing at it every time he felt it being to thaw. _When I die, I'll be nothing. I hope it doesn't feel like this._ He took a deep breath and stepped into the study.

Salazar glanced up from Tom Riddle's notes. 'I may have a solution.'

A ray of hope burst through the deep, empty void. Enough warmth to ease the cold. 'Tell me.'

'I believe the piece of Tom Riddle's soul must've latched onto your own in order for it to survive being in the same body as another soul. A body cannot house two souls in conflict, one must be subdued or they must coexist peacefully.'

 _Coexist like Quirrell?_ Harry shuddered. _That wasn't peaceful._

'And that means what for me?'

'Since you are still in control of yourself and were unaware of its presence, the soul fragment must be subdued. From the notes, a connection must exist between the two souls within you. It should be possible for you to either absorb or expel it once the link is broken.' Salazar peered down at the notes. 'There it is. True, complete remorse, the opposite intent to that which was used to fracture the soul, might reverse the effects of one, transferring and absorbing the piece back to where it belongs. I'm not sure how that would work with a fragment of another's soul, but you and Tom _are_ similar…'

'How would I break the link?' Harry asked.

Salazar's deep, green eyes bored into Harry. 'You would have to fracture your soul.'

'No. Find another way.'

'I tried. I knew you would not agree, so I kept searching.'

'You found nothing.' A wry smile spread over Harry's lips. 'Oh well, then.'

Salazar's wand fountained green and silver sparks. 'You don't need to be a sacrifice! You are my heir, the last of my family that I recognise.'

'So I should sacrifice someone else in my place?'

'Someone must die. It can be you, or someone of your choice.'

'I will not kill to save myself.' Harry recalled the flash of green from his dreams, his mother's begging, and all the faces from Gryffindor Tower when his friends had turned on him. 'I won't be selfish like they all would be. I don't want to be _like them_.'

'You can choose someone who already deserves death,' Salazar said. 'The Killing Curse will not change its effect and you, who deserve more, do not need to be sacrificed. A single, deserving death to temporarily fracture your soul, then a moment's pain to rip the piece of Tom's soul out. Tell me that it's not a sacrifice worth making to preserve your life? You are a good wizard in more ways than one, your death is unnecessarily noble, be a little selfish for once. In the end, the wizarding world will profit more from your survival than your death.'

'No.'

'You are being foolish.'

'Am I?' Harry asked. 'Is it foolish to understand that sometimes things need to be sacrificed?'

'Don't speak to me of sacrifices.' Salazar's eyes darkened. 'I've seen and made plenty. I've learnt the hard way when to make them and when not. You let those around you feel you'll always stand by them and help them no matter what they choose. And so they choose whatever they want most, relying on _you_ to make the sacrifice needed to obtain it. They should be the ones making the sacrifice to get what they want. That's what's _fair!_ They exploit your nobility, your generosity, and your tenacity. They always have. And if you let them, they always will.'

'I will find others. _Equals_. They'll stand alongside me, never let me down, and never leave me alone.'

Salazar shook his head. 'What good are equals when you know their role is only to bury you, Harry.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	21. Dumbledore's Mistakes

Students milled back and forth through the Great Hall beneath floating candles and a cloudless, dusk sky.

Harry watched them go. _Which one would I murder to save myself? Which one would be missed the least?_ His eyes flicked to Draco Malfoy. _Probably him, but even his parents and friends would miss him. I have none of either._

'Mr Potter!' Professor Mcgonagall's voice echoed down the hall. 'If you would like to accompany me to the headmaster's office.'

_I wonder what Dumbledore wants._ Harry rose from his seat and stretched the stiffness from his limbs.

Professor Mcgonagall's eyes roved over him. 'If you like, Mr Potter, we can go via the tower so you can change into some fresh clothes.'

'It's ok.' Harry transfigured his crumpled, stained robes into crisp, clean ones. 'There, good as new.'

'You have become much more accomplished than I realised,' Professor Mcgonagall said. 'To the headmaster's office, then.'

Harry glimpsed Katie hunched between Angelina and Alicia. She kept her eyes fixed on her food, but Harry heard the giggles of the three of them as he passed.

_As if nothing ever happened._ He swallowed a knotted, hot lump of emotion and smothered it. _It's like I'm not even real. Just some caricature of a hero; there when needed, gone when not._

Professor Mcgonagall stared the gargoyle in the eye and released a long sigh. 'Sweet crystals.' She led him up the spiral staircase.

'Harry.' Dumbledore gestured to the seat in front of his desk and proffered a bowl of bright, striped sweets. 'Humbug?'

'No thanks, professor.'

Dumbledore withdrew the bowl. 'Professor Mcgonagall has been quite concerned about you, Harry. She overheard some of the rumours and after investigating, brought her suspicions to me. It seems nobody has seen you in some time, Harry. A few of your fellow students were quite concerned.'

_Concerned I was up to no good, probably._

'Who?'

'Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, Miss Weasley, Miss Bell, and Mr Longbottom.'

_All concerned for their own skins, no doubt._ A familiar smooth, cool voice welled up from the depths of Harry's mind. _They expect me to come for revenge. The longer the wait, the more likely their fear will drive them to strike first._

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a piercing look; his electric blue eyes as bright as gimlets. 'I am glad you have learned more about the cloak Harry, it's a powerful heirloom, but you should try to resist the temptation of using it. Artefacts such as your cloak carry a risk with them, becoming addicted to their use is dangerous.'

'I don't understand. Heirloom or not, it's still just an invisibility cloak with a few extra enchantments.'

Dumbledore's brow wrinkled and he pushed his half-moon spectacles up the bridge of his nose. 'What do you know about age lines, Harry?'

'I assume they prevent anyone below the set age from crossing them.'

'Do you know how?'

'No.'

Dumbledore sagged and his glasses slipped down his nose. 'I have made a mistake, it seems. There have been too many of late.'

_Horcruxes, headmaster?_ Harry crushed the faint ray of hope before it could curdle to disappointment.

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'Your cloak is a very useful thing Harry. It is not a simple invisibility cloak, but a rare artefact designed to completely conceal its owner, including their magic. One of the few ways an age line can be cheated is with such an object. In conjunction with the Goblet of Fire, an object that is very hard to deceive indeed, I created a nearly perfect barrier. I'm afraid that when your name came out, I simply assumed you'd figured out the abilities of your family heirloom and used it. I felt it was the most likely possibility, as I can conceive no other way by which your name could've been entered without my ward being broken. I am ashamed to admit, Harry, the one time in which I settled for Occam's Razor, is the one time I shouldn't have.'

_Who's razor?_

'I didn't use it.' Harry recalled the headmaster's words before the Mirror of Erised and smiled a small smile. 'I don't need a cloak to become invisible, headmaster.'

'That is a very admirable ability, Harry.' Dumbledore smiled and some of the lines faded from his face. 'We are two of very few wizards or witches who attain such prowess with the disillusionment charm. I am glad I do not have to ask if you entered the tournament.'

'That is all very well, Albus, but not what I came to you about.' Professor Mcgonagall's tone gained an extra note of stiffness.

'I know, Minerva, but it was important, too.'

'I am concerned about the rumours that you have not been seen inside Gryffindor tower for a month, that when I asked for your whereabouts my Gryffindors, my lions, did not care about one of their own enough to find out. What is happening in my house?' Professor Mcgonagall pursed her lips into the same thin, appalled line normally reserved for Neville's attempts at transfiguration.

'They don't understand. It doesn't really matter.'

Professor Mcgonagall's stern expression melted. 'Is there anything that we can do, Harry?'

_Nothing can be done._ Harry fed the faint warmth that spread through him fade into emptiness. _And if you really cared about more than appearances, we'd've had this conversation months ago._

'No.'

'Very well, Harry.' Dumbledore poked his glasses back up his nose. 'I will do my best to discover how you have ended up in the Triwizard Tournament. Professor Moody has his suspicions, he has been telling me for weeks that the faces in his foe glass are getting closer and clearer. Is there anything else you would like to discuss, Harry? You did well in the first task, much better than anyone expected.'

'I'm going to win.'

_That'll show them. See if they can make me disappear, then._

Professor Mcgonagall tutted. 'Mr Potter, the Triwizard Tournament is meant to be a stern test for exceptional wizards several years older than you are.'

A shard of ice hardened beneath Harry's ribs and crept into his veins. 'Then when I win it'll be quite the embarrassment for the other three.'

Dumbledore gave him a small smile and selected a pink-striped humbug from the bowl on his desk. He slipped the sweet into his mouth, then reached out one wizened to catch Harry's, tapping the missing thumbnail with his finger. 'I do have one more question for you, though, Harry. When did you learn to apparate?'

'This year,' Harry said. 'I would've been wandless for the first task had I not.'

'I am not going to report you for illegal apparation,' Dumbledore said. 'I was merely concerned you might splinch yourself more seriously next time you tried to visit Diagon Alley. Mr Ollivander was very impressed by you and very proud of your new wand. He is an expert in both alchemy and the lore of wands, in fact, I trust his judgement on the subject implicitly. He told me your wand was not something to be concerned about and that you were a prodigious and talented pupil I had every right to feel proud of.'

'I won't be repeating my feat. It was only out of necessity that I ever attempted it.' He withdrew his hand from Dumbledore's loose grip and tucked it into his pocket. 'As for my wand, it's no concern of anyone's but mine.' He forced a bright smile onto his face.

Dumbledore shivered and paled.

'Albus?' Professor Mcgonagall asked.

'It's nothing, Minerva. I was momentarily reminded of another mistake of mine, one that I still hope to be able to correct before it is too late.'

_Is the mistake me and my harboured horcrux_ , _or Tom Riddle?_

'No need to look so nervous Harry. There's nothing you need to worry about except the Triwizard Tournament. You have your OWLs next year, too and I expect you to perform quite spectacularly on them.'

_So I do not need to die for another year and a half at least. If he's not lying._ Harry studied Dumbledore's expression. _He doesn't seem to be. He's no reason to lie, anyway. He doesn't know I know._

'You can return to your studies or to trying to discover the clue to the second task, Harry,' Dumbledore said.

Harry pushed himself out of his chair and descended the staircase. _I have at least a year or so left. I'll have to make the most of it._

The corridors grew quiet and empty as he made his way up toward the Room of Requirement.

A hand grabbed him by the shoulder and slammed him into the wall. Pain flared up down his side and Harry's glasses slipped off his nose and skittered across the floor.

'So…' Draco Malfoy drawled. 'You actually got something right, Weasley.'

'Shut up,' Ron snapped. 'Seventh floor I said, and here he is, _skulking_.' Someone shoved him against the wall. 'I told you that you'd pay. Nobody hurts my little sister, not even you.'

_And here they are, come for revenge._

'So you join forces with Malfoy.' Harry sneered at the red and black blur before his eyes and straightened his sleeve, letting his wand slip into his palm. 'That's a new low you've sunk to, even for you.'

'He's still a git,' Ron snarled. 'We're not all buddy buddy now. Tomorrow, us and those snakes will be enemies just like normal. We just needed some extra muscle to make sure you didn't slip away. Besides, Dean's here too.'

'Is he?' Harry peered at the blurs around him. 'Can't even see him. I assume he's still upset because your sister would rather spend her Christmas with me than him.'

'At least he'll be going with someone, you've only got a few days left,' Malfoy jibed. 'Everyone knows Katie Bell ditched you for Roger Davies. He's a much better prospect than you to be sure, but I never guessed that girl was actually smart enough to pull off something like that.'

_Roger Davies doesn't care about her._ Harry smothered every ounce of feeling. _She's going to have a miserable night._

'So what now?' he asked. 'Are we going to have a pleasant conversation?'

Someone shoved his glasses back onto his face and things swam back into focus. Ron and Dean glowered on his left. Crabbe and Goyle loomed in front of Malfoy on his right.

'We're going to hex you so badly you'll be in the hospital wing for a week,' Dean growled, raising his wand. 'See if you're such an arrogant prat, then!'

'At least I won't have to worry about the Yule Ball.' Harry flicked his wand up and directed a weak blasting curse to his left.

A red flash struck Dean on the shoulder and hurled him against the wall with a loud crack. Ron threw himself to the floor.

'Serpensortia,' Malfoy cried.

The summoned snake flew past Harry to land several feet away; he ignored it and waved his wand at Crabbe and Goyle.

Thick, black ropes spun from air twisted around the pair.

'Expelliarmus!' Ron jabbed his wand out.

Harry sidestepped the red beam and swept his wand sideways, hurling Malfoy's two henchmen into the blond Slytherin. The hawthorn wand was knocked from his hand.

Ron froze, his wand outstretched.

'Perhaps you should've brought a few more friends.' Harry took a step back from the advancing snake.

Ron raised his wand. 'You used a blasting curse on Dean.'

Harry disarmed him and volleyed Ron's wand down the corridor. 'It wasn't powerful. You all deserved worse for trying to ambush me. You wanted to step out of my shadow and be seen as yourselves instead of being my friends. I gave you that chance when I left you alone.'

'We apologised!' Ron turned crimson. 'We said we were sorry! You were the one who didn't want to be friends!'

_You betrayed me. Of course I didn't want to trust you again._ Harry flicked his wand.

Ron disappeared under black ropes, bound from head to toe. He squirmed, his shouts muffled, clawing at his mouth with covered fingers.

Harry sliced a hole over Ron's mouth and glanced at his wand. _That spell came out stronger than I intended. I guess my heart must've been in it._

Malfoy wriggled out from underneath his two henchmen and scrambled for his wand.

Harry banished it down the corridor out of sight. 'You tried this before.' He pointed at the snake. 'Why did you think it would work now, when it failed last time? I'm much stronger.'

Malfoy sneered. 'You won't hurt me. My father would destroy you. Just because _you're_ an unloved orphan, doesn't mean my family won't look out for _me_.'

Ice swirled through Harry's blood. 'Shall we find out, then?'

Malfoy's eyes widened. 'Wait–'

'Bite him,' Harry hissed to the conjured cobra.

Malfoy paled white as a sheet.

'Did you forget?' Harry laughed as the snake lunged past him and walked away. 'You shouldn't forget, Malfoy. You just end up repeating your mistakes.'

A strangled exclamation and a gasp of pain echoed down the hall as Harry stepped into the Room of Requirement.

Goyle grunted. 'Quick. The hospital wing. Snake's not deadly, but–'

Harry shut the door. _Next time, if they dare attack me again, I'll have to be harsher._ His thoughts bubbled up from the base of his skull in Tom Riddle's smooth voice. _Otherwise, eventually, they'll manage to hurt me._

He pulled the Marauders' map out and traced their names. Malfoy's drifted toward the hospital wing, Ron and Dean toward the tower. Peter Pettigrew's name lingered near the quidditch pitch.

_Soon._ Harry watched it for several long minutes until it vanished. _I should clear Sirius' name before I have to die, since nobody else seems to want to bother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


	22. Tinder-Wood

The bared fangs and sharp tongues of the serpent effigies threw short, sharp shadows over the floor of Salazar’s chamber, serpent, and portrait. The vast coil of the basilisk stretched across the stone. Its maw gaped, the lower jaw melted into a red, sticky pool.

'Why are you still trying to get stronger?' Salazar fixed Harry with a searching look. ‘What’s the point?’

'I need to be more powerful.’ Harry raised an eyebrow at Salazar. ‘There’re still some things I can do in the next year. I don’t want to vanish when I die. I don’t want to disappear.’

'For someone so set on dying, you seem remarkably reluctant to accept what it is.' Salazar stroked his chin. ‘To die is to become nothing. Your parents sacrificed their lives for you. You will always remember them, but they’re gone. They don’t know you love them. They can’t know. They’re nothing.’

'I do not _want_ to die!' Harry clenched his teeth. Cold flooded his veins, then ebbed into the numb, hollow void gnawing at his heart. 'I want to live. I want my dreams. I want my hope. I want my life. I just can’t have it.'

‘Why not?’ Salazar tickled the chin of his snake. ‘What is less valuable about your life than the one you’d have to trade for it? You’re my heir, an exceptional wizard, and no average murderer or criminal could ever do more for the world than you will if you live.’

‘It’s not about that. I know I’m more likely to do good things for the world than someone like Peter Pettigrew–'

‘Then what is it about?’

‘It’s about all of _them!_ ’ Harry thrust his wand up at the castle above. Ice swirled through his blood like a snowstorm through a forest, then faded into the emptiness like whispers into the night. ‘All the Ron’s, Hermione’s, Tom Riddle’s, and Dumbledore’s.’

‘What about them?’ Salazar’s dark green eyes bored through Harry’s. ‘Because they judge you for not living up to their unrealistic perception of you?’

‘Yes.’ He sagged. ‘They want me to turn up and be perfect when they need me, then vanish the rest of the time so they don’t feel bad they can’t hold themselves to the same standards they hold me.’

‘You’re letting their delusions warp your perception of yourself.’ Salazar pointed his wand at Harry’s chest. ‘You know what anyone else would do in your shoes, yet you try to be what they think you are instead. That’s what you’re dying for Harry. It’s not stopping Tom. It’s not saving lives. It’s their foolish belief that you’re some kind of hero and your pride at being better than the ones who turned against you.’

Harry drew himself up. ‘I won’t give them the satisfaction of dragging me down to their level. They can drown in my shadow, real or not.’

'Riddle stands at one selfish extreme, you at the selfless other! See the middle ground! Walk it! Don't throw away your life because you're paranoid of emulating your predecessor.'

'Voldemort is not my predecessor,' Harry hissed.

'He was my heir, once. He is, without a doubt, distant family of yours. Do not delude yourself into thinking he is some personification of evil you must avoid emulating.' Parseltongue bled into Salazar’s speech. 'I will tell you of the Tom Riddle I knew.'

‘Tell me, then.’

'A boy came into this chamber, thin, ragged and alone. A child who dreamt of becoming something great enough to be remembered, to protect the few who’d protected him. He was family, my heir and my legacy, so I offered him my help. As the years passed, he withdrew within himself, cut off from the few he had trusted one by one. Albus Dumbledore threw him back to the muggles that loathed him without a second thought for his well-being, the students avoided him, not wanting to be dragged into his spiral to self-destruction. Within this chamber he learnt he had the ability to be something great and found the determination to seize it. He swore he would never look back.'

'You said you’d tell me about Tom Riddle. Not me.'

'I am.'

Harry blanched. A shiver trembled down his spine.

'Did you think you were so different?' Salazar’s voice softened to near a whisper. 'Even accounting for the effect of the soul fragment, the two of you would’ve been similar. I’ve said little about it because I knew you wouldn’t want to listen, but I’ll not stay silent while you throw your life away.'

_If we’re so similar, will I just end up like him?_

‘The world doesn’t need or want a second Lord Voldemort.'

'Don't be a fool,' Salazar snapped. 'You’re a hundred times worse than Godric sometimes. It took Rowena and I a month to convince him the first time he killed that he was still a good person and a good wizard. You stand here with only noble intentions and speak about dying before you become a dark wizard. Did you not listen when I explained to you the principles of magic?'

'There is no light and dark, only power and the intent that directs it.’

'Then there’s nothing that needs to be said. You are like him, but you are not him. I am sure I am not the only one who sees the similarity. Dumbledore must as well, Tom often spoke of the man as something akin to an idol.'

'He does.' Dumbledore’s pale face swam among Harry’s thoughts. ‘He definitely does.’

'And has he ever shown any concern that you might become another Voldemort? He may be raising you to sacrifice, keeping you alive until your death suits him best, but he still knows that the two of you are different.' Salazar straightened up and folded his arms. 'The two of you are apples, fallen far apart, but from the same tree.'

_I suppose that’s better than some of his metaphors._

'It still changes nothing. I have to die, or Voldemort will eventually find a way to return and many more will suffer.'

'The horcrux that anchors him has to be destroyed,' Salazar said. 'You do not have to die for that to happen.'

‘But I’d have to kill. To stop Voldemort, I’d have to take a dangerously large step toward becoming him.'

'Your soul will heal over time,' Salazar murmured. ‘As long as your intentions do not shift down a darker path, your soul will mend.'

‘Without that _darker intent_ I won’t be able to cast the killing curse to save myself in the first place.' Harry sighed. ‘Enough of this, Salazar. You’re just twisting the knife, wasting your time and what little time I have left. My mind isn’t going to be changed.’

'So you say,' Slytherin muttered. ‘Tom said similar things. His friends would be disappointed, he said. His dead parents might not understand, he told me. His equals wouldn’t stand with him, he’d say. One by one, those trusted, treasured people proved they were loyal to themselves first and foremost. They chose to be selfish, refused to understand, and to not stand with him. Afterward, he withdrew. Tom Riddle didn’t leave everyone behind to become Voldemort. They tore themselves free of him and Voldemort was forged from what was left.'

 _How could it be worse than it is?_ Harry shuddered. _Nothing’s worse than this endless empty feeling. I wake up with it every morning and yearn for the moment I can just fall sleep again._

'I’ve nothing left to lose,’ he said.

 _As long as dying is really like sleeping._ Harry’s heart shrank and he swallowed a stab of fear. _If you can feel the emptiness of dying forever, then I can’t even escape it by sleeping._

‘If you say so.' Salazar tossed his wand back and forth between his hands. It sputtered silver sparks. ‘Let’s spend this time on something more productive, then.’

Harry cast the disillusionment charm on himself.

'You mastered it.’ Salazar nodded. ‘Excellent. What about the rest?’

'Papilionis,' Harry whispered.

Black butterflies swarmed from the tip of his wand. They swirled around Harry and Salazar in demi-sphere of whirring wings.

'The butterflies,' Salazar groused. 'What was wrong with conjuring snakes? A proper heir of Slytherin would conjure serpents, not girly insects. I can almost hear my wife and daughter laughing at me in the afterlife.'

A brief thrill of amusement caught the corner of Harry’s lips and curved them upward, then it faded into the deep numbness inside him. Harry flicked the first butterfly and transfigured it to a razor-edged shard of steel.

It screeched off the nose of a serpent effigy and skittered past the edge of Salazar’s frame. Harry covered the chamber in flurry of steel. The clattered across the floor and off the walls, leaving a myriad of scratches upon the basilisk’s skin.

'Stop that!' Salazar glowered at the pieces of steel littering the chambe. ‘I do _not_ need holes in my canvas. There’s barely enough room in here for me as it is with this wretched snake wriggling around.’

‘I’m done.’ Harry dispelled his butterflies and strewn projectiles into wisps of black smoke. ‘Well, apart from the basilisk spell. I’d like to try that again. It seems like a good last resort spell.’

'Not from the water,' Salazar said.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. ‘What should I use as a medium, then?’

'The air. If you can conjure it effectively from nothing but air, you’ll have a far more versatile and dangerous spell. A good duellist will be wary of water or fire, or anything their opponent might use against them, but people always overlook the air surrounding them.'

Harry shrugged. ‘Why not.’

'Don't look so sceptical,' Salazar snapped. 'I don't want you to give it flesh, blood, and scales, coalesce it from the air, use your emotions as a focus and give it form from the element just as you’ve always done.'

 _Easier said than done._ Harry clawed at the emptiness for some scrap of feeling and slashed his wand away from his across his chest. He pictured the fangs and maw striking out of nothing, just as they’d lunged from the common room heart.

A blur flashed from his wand and the tongue bridge shattered like glass, spraying pieces across the pool.

'Never listen to my suggestions again,' Salazar murmured. His serpent cowered behind his neck, flicking its tongue at piece of bridge lodged in the edge of the frame. ‘That’s nothing like what I was expecting.'

Harry waved his wand. The pieces of bridge rose from the water and the tongue reformed over the pool. ‘What were you expecting?’

‘I expected a translucent serpent similar to the water based one, but that certainly wasn’t it.' Salazar stroked his chin. ‘Usually, it’s the emotion of the focus that warps a spell. What feeling did you use the first time you cast it? When you killed that wizard?’

Harry cast his mind back. ‘Anger. I was angry.’

‘And this time?’

‘Nothing. I didn’t feel anything.’ Harry shrugged. ‘I don’t feel much of anything anymore.’

_The emptiness. It was the emptiness._

'Nothing...’ Salazar frowned. A shadow flitted through his green eyes. ‘I think you made it a vacuum, a concentrated absence of air. It imploded, rather than exploded.’ He grinned. ‘Marvellous. I've never seen anything like it. No simple shield charm will stop a spell like that.’

'I can test it, if you like.’

'Not in the chamber,' Salazar hissed. 'Go and ruin the Room of Requirement instead.'

Harry picked the painting up and carried it back to its spot in the study. 'I should eat.'

‘I’m not surprised you’re hungry after that.’

‘I’m not hungry.’ Harry patted his stomach. ‘I’ve not been hungry for a few days. I need to eat, though.’

‘You fell out with that girl a few days ago.’ Salazar’s eyes darkened. ‘Make sure you eat, Harry. You need the energy.’

‘I know.’

Harry found the tables of the Great Hall piled with pumpkin pasties. _Urgh. What terrible luck. What is this school’s obsession with pumpkin? Did Dumbledore stumble into Halloween once and fall in love with pumpkins and sweets?_

He took a seat at the very end and peeled the pastry off the soft, orange mush, forcing down a few mouthfuls.

The bench shifted beside him.

 _Please don’t be Katie._ Harry stared at his plate. _Maybe they’ll go away if I ignore them._

'Harry.' Hermione nudged his shoulder.

_Ah, the only person I might want to talk to less than Katie, of course._

'Hermione.'

'Where have you been?'

‘That’s a strange way to apologise for breaking my wand,’ he said.

'I already said I was sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to break it. I’d been practicing the charm and it was the first thing in my head when I cast. I know you loved your wand, but it _was_ an accident.'

'If you didn't come to apologise, then why did you come?'

 _Just leave me alone._ He smothered a sigh. _I just want to be alone._

'We're worried about you,' she whispered. 'You've been so different after the World Cup.'

'I've heard your theories. You might be interested to know that Dumbledore believes I didn’t put my name in the tournament. Pass that along to Ron, he can tell his new friend Malfoy when visits him in the hospital wing.'

'How did you know about Malfoy getting hurt? Ron said not to tell anyone.’

Harry twisted round and studied the glint in her brown eyes. 'What else did he say?'

'That Malfoy was bitten by a snake and Dean's collarbone got broken in a fight on the seventh floor. He was really angry about it, but I had drag it out of him.'

'That was it? He didn't mention they all tried to ambush me together up there?’

'No.' Hermione shook her head, the gasped. 'You broke Dean's collarbone, Harry! Malfoy nearly had nerve damage from that snake.'

_If they’d not attacked me, nothing would’ve happened to them._

'He summoned it.’ Harry shoved the remnants of his pumpkin pasty away. ‘Like he did in second year.’

'Oh. So it wasn't you.'

'No. No. It was me.' Harry felt a faint flare of satisfaction as her jaw dropped. 'I commanded it to bite him. He should know better than to summon snakes against me.'

Hermione chewed at her lip and spun her empty goblet round and round on the table. 'I heard about Katie,' she murmured.

Harry shot her a flat stare. 'That's good. You're probably the only person who has and I _really_ wanted to discuss it with you.'

Hermione flinched.

‘We aren’t friends anymore, Granger. You broke my wand, one of the most precious things I had. And before you start saying it was an accident, let me remind you the whole reason you cast that spell in the first place was because you couldn’t accept I might be as good at something as you.'

'I could accept it!’

'I'm glad that’s the only part of my statement you wanted to contest,' Harry snapped. 'Because I'm not sure I could’ve suppressed my temper if you'd tried to convince me we could still be friends.'

She crossed her arms and released a short huff. 'I don't know what’s happened to you, Harry. You’re being very unreasonable and irrational.'

‘Really? You’ve no idea what happened?’ Harry’s lip curled. ‘That’s strange, given you’ve been involved _every time._ ’

Hermione threw her legs out from under the table and stomped away.

 _Just leave me alone._ Harry watched her bag recede into the crowd. _You disappeared when I needed you, don’t come back now I don’t._

Laughter burst from the far end of the hall. Harry risked a glance and glimpsed Ron’s red hair.

'No.' A cold, French-accented voice cut through the laughter like a knife. 'Not if you were the last male in this school.'

 _Ah_ , _the charming Fleur Delacour is still struggling with getting a date to the Yule Ball._ Harry watched out of the corner of his eye as she strode through the tables, followed by the crowd. _I bet she just wants to be left alone, too._

A crimson-faced, mortifed Ron slunk out of the crowd surrounding Fleur Delacour.

 _Ron actually asked her._ A laugh burst from his lips. _They literally couldn’t be more unsuited for each other. She’s elegant and clever and he’s, well, not._

Ron rounded on him like a wounded bull. 'I don't know what you find funny, Potter. I'm just as successful as you are and you have to open the ceremony.'

 _True. I do._ Harry’s cheer faded. _Thanks for reminding me, Ron._

'No wonder Katie dumped you.' Ron sneered. 'You don't even have the courage to ask anyone. Explains why you can't bear to show your face around Gryffindor Tower. There's no room for cowards in the house of the brave.'

A shard of ice formed in Harry’s chest. 'I don't care about the Yule Ball. Since you're so obsessed with the limelight, you can polyjuice as me and take Hermione.' He spied Dean across the hall and let a small smile slip onto his face. 'You'll only have to deal with your little sister making eyes at you the entire time.'

Ron spluttered. ‘As if–’

'Alternatively, you could do something to try and make yourself known in your own right, Ron. Why not try asking Fleur Delacour to the Yule Ball?' Harry’s smile spread into a grin. 'I'm sure she wouldn't be _too_ scathing in her response, not when there are so many people around to witness your humiliation.'

'As if I’d ever lower myself to act like you,' Ron yelled. 'You don't even have the courage to ask anyone to the ball, let alone _Fleur Delacour_.' Her name slipped out in a quiet, reverent whisper.

Harry burst into laughter. 'I don't even want to go, let alone with Fleur Delacour. Besides, she has so many fans I wouldn't have time to finish my lunch if I wanted to join the queue and ask her.'

_Although, if by some miracle she said yes, it’d certainly teach Roger Davies a lesson._

A tense, thick silence settled over the hall. Ron’s face turned crimson as the eyes of everyone in the hall focused on them. Distinct clear steps rang out across the floor of the hall from his left. Harry’s heart slipped somewhere down below his stomach.

'So, you find _this_ funny, too.' Fleur Delacour’s soft voice emanated from just behind him. Her tone reminded Harry very much of the eyes of the Hungarian Horntail. 

A primitive instinct to remain still seized him. _Oh, bloody hell. I’m about to get murdered by an angry French witch in front of everyone._ A chuckle slipped from his mouth. _Well, at least that’s one horcrux gone._

Soft, strong fingers caught his chin and turned his head round. The faint, sharp, sweet scent of burnt holly drifted to Harry’s nose.

A pair of blue eyes met his. Even narrowed, they were bright and clear as a summer sky.

'I think you will make a good date to the Yule Ball,' Fleur said.

 _She’s used to getting what she wants, but I’d rather not be subjected to even more of the school’s envy._ Harry struggled for words, but caught sight of Roger Davies’ horrified face in the crowd. _On second thought…_

'I agree.' He pulled a bright smile onto his lips.

Fleur’s lips curved. ‘Of course you do.’

_Her smile’s as forced as mine. I wonder if she knows that, too._

'Good.' She patted him on the cheek, then flicked her long, silver hair back over her shoulder. 'Tomorrow is Christmas Eve,' she murmured. 'I'll meet you at the Owlery as we met before, so we can take a day to get to know each other a little before the Yule Ball.'

 _She wants to explain._ Harry nodded and gave her a thumbs up. _Maybe she can explain the whole Katie thing. Maybe I should apologise for laughing at Ron bothering her._

‘Perfect.’ Fleur Delacour turned on her heel in a swirl of silver hair. ‘If anyone else wants to ask me to the Yule Ball, the answer will obviously be no. Don’t waste my time unless you _want_ to be cursed.’

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's also my discord and website!
> 
> discord . gg / r3ujM4t8JA
> 
> alltheblankcanvas . com
> 
> And, finally, if you're a fan of Harry/Fleur, then this discord server's where to go for more!
> 
> discord . gg / q63UUxD


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